A certain someone is holding my frozen chicken hostage. I've been reduced to calling him every half hour, leaving pathetic messages on his machine (made worse by the fact that I know he saves all of them), and meanwhile I'm ravenous and have no plans for the evening.
So, uh, what are you doing tonight?
(Yes, it has come to this.)
So, uh, what are you doing tonight?
(Yes, it has come to this.)
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
Plans for the evening? Tempting someone with good head? No, that was last night. Trying to finish a piece of fiction, and then turn my attentions to an essay I'm supposed to write on why Deepthroat became a film instead of a collection of loops. I should probably write critiques tonight, too. Damn.
Your ass smells more of tuna than your breath, do you store tuna salad in there? It smells a little off.