Apparently, I have to find a new stalker
What does a guy have to do to get his name written on a piece of paper, inserted into a woman’s yoni, taken out the next day, partially burned, hung in the Southwest corner of a room, then buried with two cherries these days?
I wonder if I have burned all my bridges already, or if there are some that I missed.
This is in relation to a disturbing story that I heard several times before the wedding. No, it was not anyone that I know. I was just hoping that I could make milk or some other liquid shoot out of Lisa’s nose as she laughed, because she was the one who relayed the story to me. Lisa did not laugh one bit.
I’ll see about telling the full story tomorrow, as long as I won’t be trampling on anyone’s one woman show.
Also, who says “yoni?” Honestly! WTF.
Dude, how do you know that your name isn’t in her yoni? After all, you did meet her at the wedding and she did tell you the story in all of its wonderful, attention getting glory. Maybe she went home crushing on you big time and had an all out ritual to draw you into her life, and yoni. YONI, YONI, YONI. Ick.