my cat (george, the one on sedatives) mauled my uncle's hand at christmas dinner...so...uhm...it's not just you? i really don't know where i was going with that story. i just don't like my uncle and find joy in retelling the tale of my pet biting him. mid-comment p.s. (which really makes it not a p.s. at all, but i'll just ignore that fact): my mom says hi. i think the real point here is that it is quite clear that, come hannukah dinnah, i'm stealing you away from the masses (or...our parents...plus bob...plus victoria and her parents...plus calum...) because i don't know what's going on in the situation which is alluded to above. so, here's the plan: you and i (and maybe the kittens) will run downstairs awkwardly but nobody will say anything because i'm the one making the rules in this plan. beforehand, i'll learn how to make cosmopolitans and then i'll magically gain the ability to mix them in your basement, which will mysteriously hold all the ingredients and tools required for their creation. then we will turn on "sex & the city" (which will be playing on every channel non-stop on the twenty eighth of december because, again, i'm making the rules in this plan) in the background, sip cocktails, be classy, and then you can whine and talk about all that which plagues you and i'll try to advise you the best i can. four cosmopolitans later, we'll be totally pissed* and will end up bitching about boys and sexual frustration, having a dance party to "fall out boy" and "panic! at the disco" and all will be well. we will magically sober up, prance upstairs faultlessly and then get back in with the hannukah dinnah krew, no questions asked. you down, babezz?
*please note: the kittens will not be allowed to drink. kduh.
haha. molly only mauled my hand because i was feeding her a piece of turkey and she doesn't know her own power. reallly. all of the above will happen for sure. for suuure. i'm excited. but now i have to go slave aaway at bltns so i will see your sweet ass wednesday. <3.
mid-comment p.s. (which really makes it not a p.s. at all, but i'll just ignore that fact): my mom says hi.
i think the real point here is that it is quite clear that, come hannukah dinnah, i'm stealing you away from the masses (or...our parents...plus bob...plus victoria and her parents...plus calum...) because i don't know what's going on in the situation which is alluded to above. so, here's the plan: you and i (and maybe the kittens) will run downstairs awkwardly but nobody will say anything because i'm the one making the rules in this plan. beforehand, i'll learn how to make cosmopolitans and then i'll magically gain the ability to mix them in your basement, which will mysteriously hold all the ingredients and tools required for their creation. then we will turn on "sex & the city" (which will be playing on every channel non-stop on the twenty eighth of december because, again, i'm making the rules in this plan) in the background, sip cocktails, be classy, and then you can whine and talk about all that which plagues you and i'll try to advise you the best i can. four cosmopolitans later, we'll be totally pissed* and will end up bitching about boys and sexual frustration, having a dance party to "fall out boy" and "panic! at the disco" and all will be well. we will magically sober up, prance upstairs faultlessly and then get back in with the hannukah dinnah krew, no questions asked.
you down, babezz?
*please note: the kittens will not be allowed to drink. kduh.
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