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.
