"plan c (quiz show)"
Basically, as my mood states. Drawn and quartered from the recent events that seem almost criminal to omit at this conjecture, I'm faced first and foremost with the decision to either simply state my recent goings-on in a bland, deadpan narrative (which is almost impossible for me to do, as you all probably well know) or tell
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If she’d really come across as the “little sister” you always wanted as a kid, you’d have told her to put a fucking bra on, does her Mama let her leave the house like that?
Kidding.
What a sweet SWEET story. She sounds almost half as cool as me. Glad you hit it off. Perhaps she’ll be a pleasant distraction from things.
Incidentally; glad you’re back and journaling at least a little more than before.
Ahhh - write me a book, a sonnet, a poem, an article, a want-ad. I like your writing style, your wit and charm. I like to giggle when I read, and among other things, “shotgun” had me going. Don’t stop journaling or things could get ugly.
Danny Boy!
Harmony!
There is little cooler than breaking into song with someone you barely know and singing falling naturally into beautiful harmony. I have made life-long friends that way, in fact.
Speeches and harsh, authoritative tones. BROTHERHOOD! Ah yes, mighty brotherhood is always ruined by the presence of a woman. Exhibit A: Yoko Ono; but isn’t brotherhood largely a ( ... )
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Whatever, is what I say. He's the one that opened Pandora's Box. If a component of this adventure we're having is about accepting consequences, then he's got a head start. She so doesn't think of Eric "like that." HA ( ... )
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Your plan before you leave should be to take Ashley to a street corner, put out a hat, do some harmonizing, and earn enough cash to GO TO THE AQUARIUM. Maine is lovely, but while they do know their skiball, and shopping outlets, there's nothing like it there.
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Two men with their attractions and a chick on a unicorn spells hijinks at best, global thermonuclear war at worst. Harmlessly braless in the back seat (with near perfect teeth) can do no less than generate raw, testosterone-laced, teeth gritting, tension-filled attempts at normal guy talk in the front seat. Attempts which will be fruitless, save for the anguish and frustrated silence which they will yield. No, one cannot hold a focused thought in one's mind whilst huffing pheromones.
You, sir, are truly doomed.
;-)
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And besides, all three of us have cars anyway. :)
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This is your place, take ownership and write whatever you damn feel and offend, turn heads in owe, and enjoy it. Or write a pretty pony princess story if you want.
Ashley seems like a great person.
Hoorar!
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Pretty pony princess story? Actually, that's a damned good idea.. ...
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