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I’m not dead.
I’m looking for the culprit that wrote that post.
It might have been drunk me.
It was probably drunk me.
It wouldn’t be a family gathering if I wasn’t constantly seeking emergency exits.
My life is kind of like when you’re about to sneeze and then don’t
cute gender neutral terms to call your partner:
- winter candy apple
- iced gingerbread
- my peach bellini
- …. “jen”
I’m having a bout of insomnia.
SEND ME MESSAGES.
My mom asked me to make a book for her office to give to their boss for boss day? And I didn’t really have time to work on it or know what to do with that request. So then my mom gets all frustrated that I couldn’t just whip something together. And what I ended up giving her was one page and more of a roast than anything.
I really hope I don’t get credited with it.
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