This day-to-day thing is starting to feel nostalgic, these are beginning to sound like the graphic love letters I wrote to a boy in Georgia while I was 18, which says a lot about the overall health or lack thereof concerning my personal relationships (2), even today. I'm sure no one but me is Truly happy with these, but he wasn't always happy with
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(7) Yes, you have.
(8) It was because it is Canadian thanksgiving.
(12) Diane, Reeve is dead because you slashed the tires of his wheelchair and the tires of his crippled heart with your horrible horrible jokes. Love, Steven.
(14) MURDERER
(15) I hope he haunts you.
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ii. Jesus Babbling Christ.
iii. Oh, right, that. It's also why you called me at that horrible hour, isn't it? I saw you discussing that with Paul and frankly, I am appalled at your attitudes.
iv. You told me you were going to say "Horrible Orrible". I had this whole paragraph written up about it. You ruined it.
v. Yeah.
vi. Haha, me too.
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2- Yes, he is dead too.
3- Yes it is. You don't even care that I appreciate you!
4- You are a horrible orrible woman. I don't even know why I am making voluntary typos for you.
5- I know.
6- Everybody is going to haunt you when they die.
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I've changed my mind. I don't want yo' babies no more. I wouldn't say no to a toss in the sack though. Wait. Yes I would. You'd take that literally, sew me up in a canvas bag, and toss me off a cliff.
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See, this is what is keeping me from actually going ahead and allowing you to use my barren, desolate uterus. You are so indesicive! Yes, no, yes, no. Fucking make up your mind, and then you know my beeper number. Lewd Wink.
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Clearly the best post I've read yet today, though I haven't quite finished picking up where I left off from yesterday, but, yeah. Gallows humor appeals to me at the moment. And the joke about the stairs? Priceless.
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