Dear Men
Dear perverted men:
Stop hitting on my mom.
No really. Stop it. It's creepy, and she's taken. You're not as hot as you think you are. You smell like old socks. That comb-over does nothing to hide the blinding glare of your bald head. So stop. Please.
Irritated to hell,
The daughter who still lives in her mom's basement.
Stop hitting on my mom.
No really. Stop it. It's creepy, and she's taken. You're not as hot as you think you are. You smell like old socks. That comb-over does nothing to hide the blinding glare of your bald head. So stop. Please.
Irritated to hell,
The daughter who still lives in her mom's basement.