(no subject)
Don't you hate it when you forget a really great private joke and you can't bear to tell the other person that you're as confused as fuck?
And then they keep bringing it up.
Again. And again.
And instead of a legitimate, witty response, all I can do is be like, "Oh, ahhahhaha, spaz!" in a really noncommittal manner.
I feel like one day he's going to realize that this joke was not with me, and he's gonna be like, "Hey, Marissa, why the fuck did you always laugh at this? You were never a part of it!" and I'll have to, like. I dunno...
Either tell the truth or make up some really deranged excuse, like, "Oh, tins of soup are just hilarious to me without and real reason! haha! I can't even go grocery shopping down that aisle without a chuckle!" and hope that everyone is distracted by my use of the word 'chuckle.'
THREE INCONCLUSIVE SENTENCES INTO THE SPRING ESSAY.
FUCK ON A SILVER PLATTER. FUCK.
And then they keep bringing it up.
Again. And again.
And instead of a legitimate, witty response, all I can do is be like, "Oh, ahhahhaha, spaz!" in a really noncommittal manner.
I feel like one day he's going to realize that this joke was not with me, and he's gonna be like, "Hey, Marissa, why the fuck did you always laugh at this? You were never a part of it!" and I'll have to, like. I dunno...
Either tell the truth or make up some really deranged excuse, like, "Oh, tins of soup are just hilarious to me without and real reason! haha! I can't even go grocery shopping down that aisle without a chuckle!" and hope that everyone is distracted by my use of the word 'chuckle.'
THREE INCONCLUSIVE SENTENCES INTO THE SPRING ESSAY.
FUCK ON A SILVER PLATTER. FUCK.