It always starts with a toothbrush
Miss Brit stayed the weekend.
She left this morning to go to work, and when I got to my bathroom sink a toothbrush that wasn’t mine was left behind, tucked in between aftershave, and the toothpaste.
She just marked her turf.
I’m not complaining at all. I have turned into such a sucker for her.
Mostly because she says such cool things -
- We really are a mongrel nation (england), we have saxons, normans, angles.
- My reply was, no you aren’t. If you can point out someone there and call him a saxon fuckbag, then you may have a point.
- I am not easily domesticated
- This was in response to, “Lets put some of that feminist theory to work and clean my apartment.”
My favorites are the following
- Most of my wardrobe has been horribly influenced by Dita Von Teese.
- Oh yes, me and a ex used to spar with lightsabers, all the time.
And finally, I dislocated my shoulder last week. It’s still a little tender, and when I was holding on to a pole on the train it hurt alot.
She gave me this look. It can only be described as concern, and says…
- I worry about you.
I think this one is a keeper.
