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Woo, you’re getting handsy. I’ll kiss your neck, I guess, because you kissed mine so you’ve already guilted me into kissing yours. Okay, let’s make out again. Why are your eyes open? Who the hell kisses with their eyes open? Now my eyes are open. We’re looking at each other while we’re kissing. Am I the only one who thinks this is really weird right now?
I know, I know, this isn’t 1988 (even if the hipsters are still dressing like it is), and Tommy’s been through the wringer in recent years. He got heat for jumping on Oprah’s couch (whatever, I like an unstable man), and every other Perez Hilton entry mentions his homosexual tendencies (bisexual men exist, people). But let’s get real here. Tom Cruise would be great in bed.
Coffee makes the bitch at my office tolerable. I can slap on a fake smile and pretend she’s not a horrible human being, and I can listen to Nicki Minaj without feeling like a sellout. I can crank out bullshit assignments at 8 a.m. Coffee makes me feel like fucking Grace Jones as I walk down the office hallway. I might work for the government, but I’m the biggest legal drug buyer since ugly hippies discovered salvia (RIP).
