Only my husband would walk up to my gynecologist in Costco, point at me, give him the two thumbs up while grinning and say, ‘Nice one, huh?’
Oh, you thought my hair twirling was flirting?
Actually, it was just me checking for split ends because you were boring the shit out of me.
When wearing a logo or clever t-shirt, make sure your rack looks good.
No one likes reading stuff on a lumpy, wavy surface.
You too, ladies.
It’s like my dad always said, “How did you get this number?!”
What possible bit about trying to buy a large number of ice cream containers and two boxes of tampons says I want to chat you up, douchebag?
The tattoos in your shirtless avi say ‘bad boy’; the flowered wallpaper behind you scream ‘living in mom’s sewing room’.