it’s 2012 where’s teleportation
it’s 2012 where’s teleportation
it’s 2012 where’s teleportation
We’ve only just met, and we’re going to go look at a flat.
Problem?
We don’t know a thing about each other. I don’t know where we’re meeting, I don’t even know your name.
I know you’re ambitious. You chose your dreams over family and friends. That including your first love. I also know you were on top of your career when you took a fall. Judging by the scar on your neck - I’d say throat cancer and you probably haven’t sung a note ever since. You wear prada shoes so I know you like fashion. But they’re last season so I you probably buy second-hand. I know you’re not from New York because you don’t have an accent but you have attidue so you have presumably been located here for at least a few years. That’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think? The name’s Sebastian Smythe and the address is 77 Street Lexington Avenue . Afternoon.
I give up. I’ve been searching for a fucking pair of nice shorts in my size that aren’t
- ugly as fuck old lady shorts
- so short that my boxer briefs are longer than they are
So I guess I’ll just buy guys shorts and ignore how they make my hips look huge because at least they’ll go to the knee instead of up my ass crack.
SAME HERE.
“one day you’ll grow up and realize this whole gay thing is just a phase”
- no
- no
- no
- no
- NO
- nO
- No