Going to the Candy Shop in Loverville
I am very excited about my blind date on Tuesday night. We’ve pretty much agreed to be friends with benefits already and the “date” is just a formality, one final chance to say “ooooooooooh you know what? I think this is a mistake… yeeeeeah. Gotta go. Wasn’t expecting the goiter.”
Although I very seriously doubt we won’t feel the chemistry. I think it’s more likely that a cute little leprachaun named Biggie O’Toole will come by and look up my skirt and tell me I need a pinch because–shame on me!–I’m not wearing green underwear, at which point my new lust-interest will shoo him away and look up my skirt himself and then reprimand me in the appropriate manner for wearing anything at all underneath.
