I'm in the middle of a two-day wedding, and ugh, I ate so much last night. We're going to do the same tonight.
Great food, but I'm already paying for it. Don't remember feeling full right after waking up, but I just did.
I need to hit the gym. But then I remember My Fucking Father bitching at me a couple weeks ago when I said the same thing: "Don't stay out too late. One hour, two hours, enough!" Yeah, like an asshole who gave me his gut should tell me when I've exercised enough. I don't think I can even work out anymore because all he does is fucking complain about it.
Blowing off steam because he gave me The Eye when I tried to leave last night's dinner with the table's unopened liter of Coke. We needed the Coke, guys.
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