I’m still in my bed, underneath my ever-so alluring Slanket.
Come hither, boys.
I’m sorry, Michael Pollan. Love the book, but for the duration of the night I may or may not be mentally referring to it as “OmniSNORE’s dilemma”. My b.
I’m 18 years old.
I should be dancing on tables at this point in the night. Not writing about how many times Pollan refers to corn sex and then losing my train of thought because the bookmark featured above is definitely a Harry Potter one, and it’s definitely one that makes him look like a god. But really, where the table dancing at?
Am I right or am I right?