Jimi and I made out in the kitchen for like 15 minutes yesterday evening. We were in the middle of starting dinner and then we were making out. For 15 minutes. In front of the open windows. And I'm pretty sure the refrigerator door was standing open for at least half that time. It was one of those spine-tingling, knee-weakening, heart-racing, face-flushing, lip-swelling, hot hot HOT make-out sessions; the sort that are invented by romance novelists and soap opera writers and people who find each other incredibly, awesomely sexy, even if the rest of the world is all "What in the world does he/she see in him/her?"
Eff you, OB nurse. Eff you and my hormone levels and your dumb restrictions.
Eff you right in your A.
The most appropriately titled entry yet.
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