feel free to talk to me about anything that's on your mind
For the record, that shit goes both ways. You hold the door for me, and I let you eat off my plate.
I don’t snoop. You don’t snoop. In case you ever did, though, you might find my best girlfriend listed in my phone as “Tucker” just to fuck with you.
Fuck CNN. We get our evening news from Comedy Central.
I’m ridiculously good at both, but you can only pick one. Sorry, dude. You can’t have it all on the same day. That’s too much transcendent pleasure for one man to handle. I’ll spoil you, but I won’t spoil you rotten.
feel free to fall in love again and re-marry, but if you ever take the bitch to our spot by the bar at Mastro’s, I will haunt your ass forever.
Close the curtains. Get in bed. Come on, let’s do this.
Patting it, pinching it, spanking it, biting it, fucking it, and occasionally lighting fires underneath it each have their appropriate moment. Your discretion is key. Use it wisely.
Something to remember the next time you fuck up.
Don’t you dare touch that fucking thermostat! I am a delicate flower and you pee on trees. Adapt.
I get it, you’re hungry and had a lousy day at work. Go eat a sandwich then rub one out or something but don’t take that shit out on me. If I wanted to live with an overbearing menopausal woman I would’ve married your mother.