e martë, 17 korrik 2007

to a man's heart through his stomach

Let's lay down some blatant honesty: I am not a hot twat. I can maybe pull off dim cute on a good day, maybe, so I don’t know why I suddenly transform into an 'o my goddess' when I come to your door with food. Clearly you’ve been watching way too many pornos and not getting enough sunlight. Its not like I even know how to cook, if I did it might make more sense. I guess maybe the Vegemite I've been feeding you is the secret? Has something to do with it, anyway. I just spread it on toast and its off to the races for you. How you can even eat that crap is beyond my ken. Guess its better that you're off the Ho-Hos, if only for the summer. You, my dear, are not so hot a twat yourself. We could all stand to lose some weight around these parts I guess.

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