It's you
It's you. Again.
I promised I would return.
I will.
And this time I am not coming for a taste.
Guess.
Who's.
Coming.
To Dinner
I promised I would return.
I will.
And this time I am not coming for a taste.
Guess.
Who's.
Coming.
To Dinner
Comments
Thank you for highlighting a main weakness of this communication setup. Please hear me out: Call me stupid, but I honestly can’t tell if the Pillsbury Doughboy is calling you or me a ‘Lardass’ in this scenario. If that frustrates you, listen: I can’t see into your head, I don’t know how you feel, I don’t know your intent- except that you’re still beaming stuff at me 3 years later- but it’s all mixed messages, right? A lot of them also tangled up with different women & need more parsing. Plus, I’ve gotten so used to you burying double meanings for me to see, that has made your intent more blurred from my perspective. You’ve trained me to have to look at your words from all angles, & nothing’s ever certain. If you’re feeling rotten right now, I wish I could put my arms around you but you’d never allow it. If Doughboy is talking to me, however, that puffy little bitch is about to get scorched.
If it helps, my first thought was that since my ass is still probably considerably bigger than yours (I don’t recall you having a great big ass…a nice one- but not Spinal Tap ‘Big Bottom’ mammoth material like ‘Lardass’ implies), that you thought I was drowning in self pity. Then the lenticular tilted and I changed into you. Back and forth, they both fit. Do you see?
Anyway. Happy Weekend.
And in a *perfect* world, I could eat those goddamn delicious fuckin rolls like POPCORN, with ZERO consequences.