It just isn't my week, isn't it?
Lets see, getting sick, throwdown with Jayne, midterm hassle, plates getting fucked up, bad luck with comics, getting all sorts of bodily ailments and now the cherry on my misery pie:
Jess lost my wig, wig comb and cowboy hat.
I mean, I love you like a fucking limb, Shrimps, but I am so pissed off right now. I want to hunt down the fucker who took my shit with rabid dogs and beat their fucking face in. I can picture it right now, seriously.
And even if I can't see any other way, Shrimp, I'd rather not have you pay for it yourself. I mean, yeah, I want that shit replaced, but to have you pay for it is so self-defeating as one of the perennial themes in the relationship we share is that I am the sugar daddy between us, and it is I who buys you and exorbitant amount of anything so needlessly.
The position I'm put in by this turn of events is uncomfortable and foreign to me.
Jess lost my wig, wig comb and cowboy hat.
I mean, I love you like a fucking limb, Shrimps, but I am so pissed off right now. I want to hunt down the fucker who took my shit with rabid dogs and beat their fucking face in. I can picture it right now, seriously.
And even if I can't see any other way, Shrimp, I'd rather not have you pay for it yourself. I mean, yeah, I want that shit replaced, but to have you pay for it is so self-defeating as one of the perennial themes in the relationship we share is that I am the sugar daddy between us, and it is I who buys you and exorbitant amount of anything so needlessly.
The position I'm put in by this turn of events is uncomfortable and foreign to me.