Her: “Morning slore.”

Me: “Hey Girl.”

Her: “Hahahaha!. You just went all Ryan Gosling on me.”

ryan gosling

Me: “Hey giirrrll – I’ll be the cheese to YOUR macaroni.”

(Pauses several seconds)

Me: “Ugh. Just grossed myself out. What are you up to?”

Her: “Oh Em Gee. I have the WORST headache.”

Me: “Dude. Headaches blow.”

Her: “YEAH they do.”

Me: “Sucks, man.”

Her: “Yup.”

Me: “Bet Ryan Gosling could help you with that shit.”

Her: “Doubt it.”

Me: “Shit. I just spilled scalding coffee on my nipple.”

Her: “Did you like it?”

Me: “Kinda.”

Her: “You’re a freak.”

Me: “Eh, Ryan Gosling wouldn’t think so. He’d make that shit into a lampshade.”

(uncomfortable silence)

Her: “Why are we friends?”

(pauses several seconds)

Me: “I have NO idea.”

————

I wrote this. Apparently? I need help. No, not that kind of help. I HAVE a therapist.

Comments are love, or some bullshit like that. Either way, they make my heart happy. You should leave (or at least THINK about leaving) a comment and SUBSCRIBE to my RSS feed or I will send my Chicago "friends" after you, yo.

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