Donut Day got me first in line and I already bit into mine before paying, no regrets. Glaze on my lip and I'm not wiping it off either. Come pick your flavor before I eat that one too, stepbro?
Donut Day got me first in line and I already bit into mine before paying, no regrets. Glaze on my lip and I'm not wiping it off either. Come pick your flavor before I eat that one too, stepbro?
National Sandwich Day started the second I opened the fridge, and your shirt didn't survive the decision, stepbro. First bite's already mine — come claim the other half?
An apron and nothing else turned out to be the wrong outfit for piping yolks — the filling keeps missing the eggs and landing on me instead. Come hold the tray for me, stepbro?
National Vinegar Day and I'm elbow-deep in a batch of quick pickles — the brine splashed higher than the shorts I'm not wearing planned for. One spear already gone and the jar's not safe either. Which one's yours, stepbro?
Halloween and my costume decided halfway through the night that it wasn't staying on — the hat's non-negotiable though. Candy bucket's still half full and honestly, so am I. Come claim your trick-or-treat tax, stepbro?
National Candy Corn Day and somehow there's more on me than in the bowl. The sheets are a lost cause and I'm not fixing it. Come pick the ones off me, stepbro?
National Oatmeal Day and the pot's been simmering while I decided clothes weren't part of the plan. The honey went on the oatmeal and somewhere else entirely. Come blow on the spoon for me, stepbro?
Chocolate Day caught me still in bed and the bar's already half gone — the sheet gave up on staying put somewhere around the second square. Come hold the other half for me, stepbro?
National Potato Day and I committed fully — a whole plate of loaded fries balanced right on my lap, blanket barely doing its job anymore. The tee gave up on covering anything worth covering a few bites ago. Get over here before I eat your share, stepbro?
Global Champagne Day called for the good bottle and I'm celebrating in the only shirt of yours I actually like. The cork is somewhere under the couch and I regret nothing. Come pour the second glass, stepbro?