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Ask Flippy: Does she like me, or did she just need the dryer empty?
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Before I knew it, I had run out of cool gay fits to showcase
Before I knew it, I had run out of cool gay fits to showcase
I mean, I do love how Larry only seasons it with too much mayo, salt, and a little bit of pepper.
Spam Risk sounds kind of rugged. Smells like pine. Those two-syllable names really get me. Like… James Bond. Or Hugh Grant.
I’m sick of making excuses like “I have projectile diarrhea”.
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.”
What should I do? I didn’t even know I had a LinkedIn.
“Over the last thirty years, it’s gotten to the point where I can’t take it anymore.”
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.