Sometimes not being an actual man has its disadvantages. Sitting here at the mechanics for a third hour getting fucking brakes done.
When the guy starts car talking me, I just start singing Whitney Houston and looking at my fingernails.
Sitting next to two big fat guys at Starbucks waiting to meet wife.
Farting my fucking balls off.
Though I would normally hold it in, for some reason I feel that this is okay.
oh nothing, just about ready to explain my best friend’s love life to her through a series of terminator analogies again.
If he really loved you, he wouldn’t make you T1000 into whatever he wants. He should be happy with your sturdy T800 combat chasis.
Curmudgeonly old queers can conquer calvacades of cadavers by creeping covertly into their craniums with killing contraptions.
Yeah I’m bored on lunch.
I call this game “the c-word”