The Most Important Meal

I've been pantsless for a good portion of the day.
I'm cleaning.
Because there's an Imogen coming to see me.
...
And she's staying this time.
But not with me. In the same place.
Because I'm not getting in my scratching and spitting quota that way.
Men find bad smells amusing.
Ever have someone come up to you and order you to "just check out how bad this smells,"?
Is it ever a woman?
Anyway.
Imogen is moving here. I'm appropriately terrified and lusty.
I likes she cause she's like me.
At the DMV:
DMV counter jockey (examing her picture): Why did you cut your hair?
Imogen: I was tired of being objectified.
DMV counter jockey: You looked prettier before.
I'm not sure if I asked her if using this was okay.
It'll be fine.
I can finally get breakfast with da b'ys, and not have to hear: "Umm, our bills are together, and theirs are, and theirs, and he's by himself."
That's me.