Dear Mr. G.T. ,
I think I hate you even more than I did before. You caused something to happen to me that hasn't happened in a good long time. And it didn't just happen once- no, it happened four times... in a row. Fuck you. You owe me $4 for the sheets I had to wash. This makes it very awkward to look at you, just FYI. You're still a tool.
>:(
Bzka
P.S. Why the fuck do beds always come up with you? God dammit. Stay out of my brain!
Not my sheets... they are the right color though. Laundry blows.
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