MARK, WHERE IS MY LOOFAH? YOU’RE KILLING ME HERE! YOU KNOW I CAN’T REACH MY BACK WITHOUT MY LOOFAH! WHY WOULD YOU MOVE IT?
I SWEAR TO GOD YOU’RE LIKE A WALKING COLLECTION OF BATHROOM PET PEEVES. IF YOU WANT TO KEEP SLEEPING OVER WE’RE LAYING DOWN GROUND RULES. YOU SQUEEZE THE TOOTHPASTE FROM THE BOTTOM, LIKE AN ADULT, YOU PUT THE SOAP BACK IN THE SOAP DISH, SPECIFICALLY INVENTED TO HOLD SOAP, AND YOU PUT THE NEW ROLL OF TOILET PAPER ON THE DAMNED DISPENSER, NOT SITTING ON TOP OF THE EMPTY ROLL!
UGH! IT’S LIKE LIVING WITH A CAVEMAN!
I mean, Jesus, who even gives a fuck about sex?! People act like it’s the most important thing humans do, but come on. How can our sentient fucking lives revolve around something slugs can do. I mean, who you want to screw and whether you screw them? Those are important questions, I guess. But they’re not that important. You know what’s important? Who would you die for? Who do you wake up at five forty-five in the morning for even though you don’t even know why he needs you?
