I'm the one flat on his back, solo, serene, tossing down confetti at his own face
the way the last two are clutching at each other, snuggy lifting tinsel off his hair, smith grasping at his waist in return as they glide thru gold ..what am i supposed to do with this. pls. Some of us are trying to escape the kitchen from these two
Being a GM is half the time just parenting teens. And then you trade them w your relatives across the country when they tell you what you made for dinner sucks, go to their bedroom and never come out
*briere stroking drysdale's hair: our new son loves philly cheesesteaks