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8 Comments
I have this effect on women all the time.
I bet she’s shallow and thinks he’s beneath her. She shouldn’t be so quick to judge, little Miss I’m-Going-To-Match-My-Lipstick-To-My-Shirt.
You’re killing me! This pic is great!
I think her name is Lynda. Spelled with a “y”. He’s Marty. Also spelled with a “y”. He just finished asking her a different kind of “y”: “Why? Lynda, my sweet…why? I thought things were working out..” Before replying, she telepathically consults with her spirit guide, Bitcherina.
I’m sure she has her reasons.
It was either that or tell him that he always smells faintly of Limburger.
“That’s it. From now on,” she thought, “no more guy friends. I’m not even talking to another guy unless I’m planning to fuck him. This is total bullshit.”
I can see why.
Is it his giant skull tumor that she doesn’t love? Bitch.