Chuck: JESUS H. CHRIST
Karen: whats the 'h' stand for?
Chuck: I'm not sure, but it's from Catcher in the Rye
Chuck: anyways... why must I befriend guys who get randy/horny late at night?
Karen: ...
Karen: subconcious freudian slips of friendmaking?
Chuck: I wouldn't mind so much if they lived somewhere near (preferably in the city)
Chuck: but all these boys from across the state/country/planet teasing me is like showing a thirsty man water then upending the glass onto the ground infront of him -_-;;
Chuck: I need muffins
Karen: lol
Karen: cute mini-muffins?
Chuck: naw, BIG muffins
Chuck: since, you know, muffins = sex
Karen: lol
Karen: stud muffins?
Chuck: preferably
Karen: lol
Chuck: no bad muffins
Chuck: some vanilla and/or irish creme muffins would be good
Brett: and now he's angry.... I lead him on.
Brett: ugh.
Chuck: damn, clingy much?
Brett: yes, sireee!
Chuck: you deserve muffins for your pains
Brett: HAHA
Brett: that was great.
Brett: but I do!
Brett: I really do.
Brett: I love muffins. how did you know?
Chuck: ::blinks::
Mike: so
Chuck: buttons on your underwear
Mike: ?
Chuck: "so" buttons on you're underwear
Chuck: but instead of so it should be sex
Chuck: erm, sew
Mike: lmao
Mike: five guesses what Chuck's thinking about
Chuck: :p
Karen: i work 1 to 6 tomorrow >
Chuck: ouch
Chuck: you deserve muffins for that!
Chuck: ... actual muffins, not sex muffins
Karen: lol
And... how the hell did people find my page? I know Marcy knew about it for some time, but then Em was all quotage and then Jyl comes at me for my preppy Avril comment...
I miss the days were my page was nicely ambiguous with only close people to read it. On the other hand, it's out on the web so why the hell not?
Hell, invite Mike over at some point to peruse the archives. Maybe then he'll take a hint that I like him -_-;;
And speaking of Em: "I'm kinda glad that you didn't come to California since then I'd never see Tyler or Aerin because you guys would be too busy having gay sex."
. . . . . posted:||10:32 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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