You call me an ass for telling you go smoke somewhere else. I tell you go eat my ass. You call me a bitch. I say bitches love to eat my ass. I call you ugly. You call me a faggot. I say I love faggots, I hope you die. You say I bet you do. Then I call you trash. Then you stop, and I go back to call you cheap. Because you didn’t give a cigarette to that chick who asked you. I may be going to hell. I am okay with that. And when it all comes down to it, who really carries more stereotypes in their heart.
Who’s Who Here
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But will there be a second date?
this is my blog, remember that.
the bad asses of portland never rest.
This is precisely why I avoid Buffalo Wild Wings at any cost.
I love it when bus drivers write IAs.
At times, I find Militant Anti-Smokers to be such bores, but even those folks deserve a better spokesperson than you.
I wouldn’t put up with that shit, by the second round I’d go right to “I’m rubber, you’re glue…”
Your relationship definitely did not get off on the right foot. Start Over!!