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He resembled the Jonas Brothers before they’d realized straightening hair was for pussies.
“I could blow four grand on a flea-infested crack den in North Korea, and it’d be a better investment.”
Stop it, creep. You finished college and knew the ins and outs of anal while she still thought she pees and fucks from the same hole.
“I’ll make it easy for you this time, seeing as your level of competency sits somewhere between a lobotomized pigeon and the dip-shits who wrote Disaster Movie.
The one in Kuala Lumpur looks like Barney threw up in it, hosted an orgy inside the bedroom, then jizzed all over to reclaim his dignity.”
I’d sooner show up to a swingers’ night at a retirement community than a fucking gender reveal party.
“Also, I won’t ask you again to close your legs. I have to sit in this office for another three hours, and your pussy smells like a fish market.”
“You look like someone shaved a teletubby baby and glued a used wig to its head”—Delilah coughed—“and I guess you’re cute. Sorry, dude.”
