Dear "Fader"—I'm flattered that you've displayed your sexual desires for me to the public world. In fact, the feeling is mutual. I wish I could express to you how horny I am while I scrub "I wanna do the barrista" off the men's room trashcan at my workplace. I'm getting all distracted thinking about hot it'd be if you took me, right there on the espresso machine. We could do it! Unfortunately, the fire in my loins weakened upon discovering your spelling errors. Bummer. If you wanna "do" it with me so bad that you'll hang out hunched over our bathroom's garbage on a Saturday night, there's a chance you'd get some if you wrote your number down, tossed a couple bucks in my tip jar, and bothered to make conversation. I do like talking to people, unlike many others who work at popular coffee shops in town. 'Til then, though, "barista" only has one "r." And maybe next time you could at least draw me a panda bear so I'd have something cute to look at while I spend my Saturday night staying late to scrub your lame graffiti away.—Anonymous
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