I would like to suffer with you... you know... for support reasons, wiping the secret sauce off your cheek or forehead, sharing the same sticky greasy fingers from the fries, staring at the day old apple turnover in the the heat rack, making disgusting mushy lip licking faces at it until the manager gets uncomfortable and asks us to leave. You know... right.... this is what you were thinking too, right?
3 comments:
I would like to suffer with you... you know... for support reasons, wiping the secret sauce off your cheek or forehead, sharing the same sticky greasy fingers from the fries, staring at the day old apple turnover in the the heat rack, making disgusting mushy lip licking faces at it until the manager gets uncomfortable and asks us to leave. You know... right.... this is what you were thinking too, right?
I'm feeling some "that meal feels like a log in my stomach" sympathy pains right now. I'm sure it's only exacerbated after midnight.
And, I actually did mean "impotent" on my blog. Maybe I should have used incompetent, but I was feeling mean. No rootbeer? Come on!
-nat
Natalie,
Good. There is no excuse for no rootbeer. "Impotent" is very funny, indeed!
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