|It's time for my mammogram.|
A word to those of you ladies who haven't yet experienced
its joys: It hurts like hell—you'll feel like Giles Corey.
Profoundly cute • Seriously smart • Moderately droll • Game
|Tomorrow's Open Mic night at The Museum of Sex. Two of my coworkers are coming to see me tell a story. I told them it could get a little "blue." I'm a little nervous about telling a sex story in front of them. I hope I don't chicken out and lose my mojo, such as it is.|
|I had a first date not so long ago—it didn't go well. |
I did all the talking; he didn't have much to say. It was exhausting.
At the end of the date he walked me to the subway and invited me
back to his apartment. I told him no. His reply: "Oh come on.
I haven't had sex in SO long."
(He certainly knew how to make a lady feel special!)
Thank god the train came.
I honestly thought I'd never hear from him again, but he kept emailing
me until I told him I was seeing someone else.
He was outraged.
“There can be no worse death than to be eaten by something you love.”
“She is said to have shifted her affections to a nearby garden fence.”
“Soul? Come on, Milhouse, there is no such thing as a soul. It’s just something they made up to scare kids, like the bogeyman, or Michael Jackson.”
“After anal sex, we like shortcake!”
“... it had become a plan of breathtaking stupidity.”