Tom Oatmeal

A Blog About Intercourse from a guy who doesn't get nervous about intercourse like his friend Ricky does.

Notes

The car had been idling for about five minutes by the time I decided to go ahead and approach it.  

“Excuse me,” I said.  “If you’re trying to kill yourself, I think the car needs to be in a garage.”

“What?” he said.  “Jesus Christ man, I’m just waiting for someone.”

“Oh sorry.”

He started to roll up the window, but I put my arm in, blocking it.

“Well if you do decide to kill yourself, is it cool if I sit in the back seat?  I’m soooooooo bored!”

The car had been idling for about five minutes by the time I decided to go ahead and approach it. 

“Excuse me,” I said.  “If you’re trying to kill yourself, I think the car needs to be in a garage.”

“What?” he said.  “Jesus Christ man, I’m just waiting for someone.”

“Oh sorry.”

He started to roll up the window, but I put my arm in, blocking it.

“Well if you do decide to kill yourself, is it cool if I sit in the back seat?  I’m soooooooo bored!”