Just Call Me Id

my father just ordered me to finish my juice so he could put the glass in the dishwasher. my submissive status was exacerbated by the fact that there were old crusty mouth marks (i.e., this-was-never-washed) all over my glass.

when you live with your parents, you give up all rights to an ego.

sequel to that story: my mother came over to see what i was doing. and she’s familiar with the blogger screen. so she commented, “so you constantly have to keep your friends updated on every single thing that happens, huh? like when you take a shit in the morning, they need to immediately know, right?”

granted, this wasn’t in english. but MOTTTTTHERRRRRRRR, please.

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