I know Harls does, like mad. Her and I were bitching on night a year ago about how it was too cold to get a pack.
I haven't touched a ciggie in 6 1/2 months. I find I only really miss smoking when my friends leave the bar for a cigarette break. I end up ordering another Jamesons while they're gone. My lungs may be fine, but my liver is half way to dead.
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I wonder if she'd say the same thing about whiskey.
Honey, that's just crazy talk. There is always a bottle of Jamesons in my apartment.
Dear, sweet Harley Kwink...I'm madly in love with you. Marry me! We can go to Canadia. Or Boston or something. It'll be grand...You know the cookies are a given. They are ALWAYS a given. You could dump me tomorrow and you'd still get the cookies. Boston..shit, wherever dyke weddings were legalized. And where better to rub their little piggie noses in how bad they suck than right on their doorstep? What are they gonna do? Be jealous of you? Stare furiously at your tah-tahs? Not willingly give you cookies, but instead begrudgingly give you their cookies? Woman, time to wake up to the powers you wield - Uschi
