G.T.I.S.
G. T. I. S. is like your titties are doing the cha-cha while you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe. It’s the text version of a full-blown mess.
G. T. I. S. My teacher called me a walking disaster today.
G. T. I. S. I saw my dad wearing pajamas at 10 a. m.
G. T. I. S. My brother ate my lunch and then my homework.