Yes, well, I've been up all night critiquing fourth-rate sex narratives disguised as "fiction" by people that have clearly never done the deed in their lives.
In other words, if you pick up scones, I'll make you coffee.
Yadda fucking yadda you're not a TA bitch, protect your masculine pride, blah fucking blah; crux of the fucking matter: what would it take for you to get me coffee on a regular basis?
Thank you. You see, the last time we threw a party, a friend of ours brought The Emperor from our Tale, and he punched Watts in the face. So despite your... apparent rapport with her, I'm hoping you'll agree that a violent, homophobic young woman who can't for even a moment abide the idea that something in the universe is centered on someone other than her, would be a poor fit for our little shindig.
And if we excluded her from the invitation, she would find out, and then she would come.
The suggestive ellipsis and gentle propriety are entirely unnecessary, Byron. I haven't the slightest rapport with the girl, save for a sort of amused respect for her lack of tact and apparent allergy to kindness. Don't you ever feel like you're choking on the That, and she's rather counter-intuitively well-read.
I really don't make a habit of bringing guests to anything.
As you say, it's the choice she'd want. Given that, I somehow doubt she'd enjoy spending the evening with us Joyce aficionados.
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In other words, if you pick up scones, I'll make you coffee.
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I certainly won't bring her. She may be there nonetheless.
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And if we excluded her from the invitation, she would find out, and then she would come.
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I really don't make a habit of bringing guests to anything.
As you say, it's the choice she'd want. Given that, I somehow doubt she'd enjoy spending the evening with us Joyce aficionados.
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