Ask Flippy: So, am I Buying My Own Uber, or Are You Going to be a Gentleman?
I’m writing this in a public newspaper editorial because I don’t really feel comfortable giving you my number.
I’m writing this in a public newspaper editorial because I don’t really feel comfortable giving you my number.
“Picture this fever-inducing, body-aching, taste-and-smell-removing scenario in your head, and let me know what you think.”
“My dad claimed that he is a cicada and that he needed to hibernate for 17 years.”
What should I do? I didn’t even know I had a LinkedIn.
I mean, if any woman besides me were to be texting my boyfriend, I would want it to be Kamala Harris. I just don’t know what to believe.
Dear Flippy, One week ago, I finally hit a new max bench press (225 pounds). While I appreciate my buddy Keith smacking my ass and saying that I’m “yolked as shit, bro,” I find myself yearning for attention in other facets of my life. To solve this, I have been trying to interject my max bench press (102.058 kilograms) into casual conversation. However, I’m worried that my lift-related comments aren’t being received as they should be. How can I delicately
Traditional labels like “boyfriend” or “significant other” are just so confining for a modern guy like myself.
Jessica is just so beautiful and pretty and sexy and gorgeous and wonderful and sexy and hot
They say that if you give a man a fish, he’ll eat for a day, but if you purchase a local Walmart franchise you effectively own all the fish within a two-mile radius.
Next time you get a friend’s husband to cheat on her with you, perhaps try not writing about “Steve’s mind-blowing oral” on your sexual health blog.