Finding a hippie girl who keeps her bush in check and whose farts smell like jasmine sounds like a dream come true, but you've got no idea what a pain it is trying to get her out of the house.Comments/Enlarge |
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I’d marry him or her, but only if they were playing the Ramones version of “Baby I Love You” while I walked down the aisle with him or her. I wouldn’t even bother asking which it is. That’s genitalist.Comments/Enlarge |
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