You're the ___________ to my __________.
Comment here with your username, and I will comment that you are the (insert character's name here) to my(insert another character's name here)-- this may include but is not limited to books, tv shows, movies or even real people.
It's pretty easy. ♥ GO MEMESHEEP.
(
And here's the cut, wherein I discuss spelling, crawfishes, my kids and the lack therof, hideous rock chips, furniture, the Supernatural Car, my gigantic ass and rehearsals. Feel free to skip it. )
Comments 24
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Do they still call him that? Or my Indian. Hm. My folks went to ASU. But I had a razorback cheerleader doll that called the hogs when you pulled a string.
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Also, I had a facial once and HATED it. My mom paid for this really expensive spa day for both of us. The mani/pedi thing was cool, but when it came time for the facial... first of all, they made me take off my clothes and put on a robe. Right away I was suspicious. Then, there was the arm and upper body massage that came with WASHING MY FACE. I actually got into an argument with the chick doing it all. I told her I didn't want the massage part. She said it came with. I said no thank you. She said she had to. I told her if she did I'd break her arm. She said she had to. I told her if she said that one more time I was storming out in their stupid little robe. We settled on her washing my face TWICE to make up for the no massage.
If some person I have never met before is going to touch me in any kind of even quasi intimate way, THEY are paying ME. Not the other way around.
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I gotta say, I loved the upper body massage. But only after being suspicious with the disrobing and the little strapless towel thingy. I REALLY liked it. And my face felt GREAT after.
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Damn straight. That could not have been more perfect!
My face felt pretty good too, but I was too busy feeling violated to care.
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So, what am I?
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And the left part of my brain. That had to be where it's gone.
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Not that that makes a whole lotta sense, but... it's what popped into mah head.
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Now you've gotta go play that on the piano.
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how are you, Carrie?
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