Wednesday, 11 February 2015

skin under undershirt

There is something so soft and comforting about wearing your boyfriend's t-shirt, especially when it stills smells like his deodorant, or whatever that is. I'm not even typically romantic, nor do I particularly agree with variants of the phrase: 'Give her your hoodie to wear, and she'll love you forever'. I don't intend to steal your clothes. But if I'm staying the night with you at your friend's house and don't have a change of clothes, I'll gladly accept your undershirt. I will also gladly wear it home. And gladly keep it on the pile of clothes at the end of my bed. It's not that I refuse to give it back. But if I can hold on to it a little longer, and wear it when you're not around, I'm probably not going to give it back. By all means, take it. But I won't hand it to you.


Anyway, enough cheeze.
- Have a lil listen to the above tune
- I went in for an interview and got the job on the spot!
- Found the perfect prom dress at the first place I checked woo
- The book I'm reading (Lucid by Adrienne Stoltz & Ron Bass) is pretty lame - I do not recommend.
- I heard chickadee calls this morning and the sun shone and made little rainbows on my wall

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