It really bothers me when girls complain about their boyfriends that didn’t buy them this or pay for that. He is your boyfriend, not your source of income. Just give me one of your old t-shirts to sleep in, and hold my hand in public and I’ll be happy.
So yesterday while I was working at the bookstore some girl came up with a barcode tattooed on her wrist. Of course, my first question to her was “Can I scan it?” I guess she had never had it scanned before and was pretty excited about it. She talked about how it was sentimental to her and stuff. I scanned it and she rang up as a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos. She then became livid and, of course, I was dying of laughter.
Person: what are you doing?
Me: not reading the work of a stranger on the internet interpreting the relationship between the protagonists of an established media series by thrusting them into unrealistic situations in which they for some unknown reason have intense gay sex that's for certain