Look, here's the thing. I don't ask for much (unless you were stupid enough to ask me on a date, then that's your problem, chump- pay up! That Blue Label isn't going to pour itself over them rocks).
But this, this is a shirt that speaks to my very soul. It made me laugh such that I spit out the mouthful of Vernors I had just taken. This is serious business, as that shit is tough to get ahold of unless you bawled and made your Dad buy it at the gourmet grocery store, even when he snapped at you that there was perfectly good Seagram's Ginger Ale at home.
Someone, anyone, please. If you love me, get me this shirt. I beg of you! If that means a round trip to Tokoyo, then by all means, I suggest you do what you have to make me happy. Don't make me angry. You wouldn't- oh nevermind. Can it with the David Banner shit, Barber.
(cue that fucking queer "Calling All You Angels" pop-crap ballad garbage)
3 comments:
I'm going in April. Well that's what they tell me. And by they I of course mean the handbag man.
Ususally "they" is used to refer to the blacks, by someone's inappropriate racist garndparent. Not mine, I just heard that somewhere...
Also can we please discuss how funny the term "entrance romp" is and incorporate it into our graphic discussions about make out? I thank you kindly.
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