And it's not because I just fucked some sea scullery maid or sailor over the counter, no no.
"Oh hey, I just heard your mother/single legal guardian/partner/spouse/love of your life died. You know what you need? Two whole, frozen fish."
What the fuck, good Samaritans of my life?
Give me good pity food.
also does this make me and Alistair room/house mates?
I want a fishily fuckable wench.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment