TM 175 - Who's your best friend, and why?
175 - Who's your best friend, and why?
My best friend, you have been there for me in good times and in bad. In times when I have had everything I could ever want, and times when I had nothing but the polyester shirt on my back and the very tight trousers on my ass. Oh, and my chukkas.
My best friend, you are the one to whom I can turn when I am in need. You do not judge me, you do not make fun of me and you have never ever failed to satisfy me. My only regret I have ever had with you has been not being able to have enough of you.
My best friend, you and I found each other on the day I arrived in America. You welcomed me and showed me a pleasure I had never before experienced. And even when my host parents told me that you were a bad, evil thing and would never be allowed in their house, you were my secret friend, and you kept me from going mad. You are not a sin, my best friend, not when you feel so good.
My best friend, you gave me comfort on the long, lonely Wisconsin nights when I did not have a girlfriend with whom I could do it. The many, many, very long and very lonely Wisconsin nights. I could not have made it without you, even if my other friends warned me that perhaps too much of you would make it difficult to get dates.
My best friend, I turned to you when Big Rhonda dumped me. I turned to you when Nina dumped me. I turned to you whenever I could, even when I had to sneak into the bathroom to enjoy you. Which I usually had to do, even when I was visiting people's houses. (Sorry, Eric's house. Sorry, Donna's house. Sorry, Eric and Donna's disgusting trailer.)
My best friend, when I am old and gray and still very hungry and horny, when I am unable to do anything about it, there will still be you.
Thank you, my best friend.
Thank you, candy.
What? What did you expect me to be writing about?
(365)
My best friend, you have been there for me in good times and in bad. In times when I have had everything I could ever want, and times when I had nothing but the polyester shirt on my back and the very tight trousers on my ass. Oh, and my chukkas.
My best friend, you are the one to whom I can turn when I am in need. You do not judge me, you do not make fun of me and you have never ever failed to satisfy me. My only regret I have ever had with you has been not being able to have enough of you.
My best friend, you and I found each other on the day I arrived in America. You welcomed me and showed me a pleasure I had never before experienced. And even when my host parents told me that you were a bad, evil thing and would never be allowed in their house, you were my secret friend, and you kept me from going mad. You are not a sin, my best friend, not when you feel so good.
My best friend, you gave me comfort on the long, lonely Wisconsin nights when I did not have a girlfriend with whom I could do it. The many, many, very long and very lonely Wisconsin nights. I could not have made it without you, even if my other friends warned me that perhaps too much of you would make it difficult to get dates.
My best friend, I turned to you when Big Rhonda dumped me. I turned to you when Nina dumped me. I turned to you whenever I could, even when I had to sneak into the bathroom to enjoy you. Which I usually had to do, even when I was visiting people's houses. (Sorry, Eric's house. Sorry, Donna's house. Sorry, Eric and Donna's disgusting trailer.)
My best friend, when I am old and gray and still very hungry and horny, when I am unable to do anything about it, there will still be you.
Thank you, my best friend.
Thank you, candy.
What? What did you expect me to be writing about?
(365)