"I was sore last night!"
Now, as Xmas is nothing if not a gentleman, I feel no need to identify this lady, nor spread tailstales of any coquetting. We're all adults here. As a student of this blog, if you wanna make the connection between my getting some spiffy 200-count bedsheets and all of a sudden getting emails like this, that's up to you, is all I'm saying. Seriously, I don't know why anybody even brought this up. Let's be classy, for chrissake - no matter what went on to provoke such pushing-the-bounds-of-flexibility-coupled-with-bordering-on-the-absurd-incredible-manly-terchnique soreness, this person is somebody's daughter, or sister. I guess, anyways; how the hell would I know?
1 comment:
dammit, Xmas! don't make me censor my emails!
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