“I’m divorcing you,” I told him, when he was finished having his way with me.
To this day Faneuil Hall, Greek mythology, and "Empire Records" all still give me the faintest of lady boners.
How dare I attend a wedding that cost easily over $100,000, brimming with Louboutins and expensive champagne, and feel just fine for a moment.
Don't get me started on roommates who subscribe to traditional gender roles in regards to housework, and therefore feel that the mess isn't their problem to deal with.
Twice this week I have made a dinner I had to dump directly in the trash.