I should do more shit faithfully. Like make my bed. I shall make my bed today so I feel shit-together-y in preparation to talk later to the Priest, who I am praying has not found the money to pay me yet because I don't want to go, but it would be insane to turn down a job there, but there isn't a snowball's chance in hell I am marrying or even staying engaged to Nebraska and that's gonna throw all those guys into a patriarchal tizzzzzzy. If only I could fake an understandable affair with a woman - guys can compute "switched teams". But I can't fake the fucking time of day.
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| too skinny ft need dick&pizza stat |
Then I'm going to a union happy hour. It's hard to look like this and not want to drive it around, ya know? But I never want to go anywhere, a conundrum that union affiliation might help.
Tomorrow is the dick butter cook, because of course Sunshine never showed up (some things never ever change god bless her); if she shows up this time, I'm going to drag her to ANOTHER union hang out, an honest to god speakeasy for socialist end of days minded folk. The dude I never fucked in New Orleans is bartending. Sunshine can't keep track of the dicks with flowers and bees all around. I know she's gonna bat her lashes and ask something like "which one of the guys she never did fuck are you?" Fine 🙄. I wanna see if you can really lay your problems on a bartender. Is that cliche true? Can I ask him, if you were me, in full light of all the ass eating (not in a good way) details, what would you do?
I doubt the bartender cliche is true. I think everybody just gets drunk (except me), and Sunshine could might definitely fuck a fireman. But. Fine fine 🙄.
OH WELL - Slash&Chris for dancing around the house in nothing but panties and boots 🩲👢my "lucky outfit" (turn it up!)
