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Reason #3: I respectfully acknowledge the existence of his wife.
Here’s a list of our fave pieces of beat up lumber to follow on Pinterest.
“I deserve to be happy and fulfilled, steadily incurring more and more bills until I die.”
Like outdated surgical procedures from the 90’s? Better get trilucent soybean oil-filled breast implants.
Get ready for some action: third date + private poetry recital = Boner City!
The decision to have kids is a tough one—after all, I could much more easily soil the place with my own shit.