Get to work, bitch. (probably NSFW.)

Dear Tangueray,

by margo fontaine

muskieo on flickr

I think we need to spend some time apart.  It’s not you.  It’s me.  OK, fine.  It’s you.  You made some big promises with your award-winning “depth my mouth can see” (um, gross slogan by the way, do you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth?) and all the “Resist Simple” bullshit you’ve been using to lure me into your clutches, which, frankly, sounds like some creepy peer pressure date rape line you learned from the guys on your junior varsity football team in 10th grade.  Lame.  But the truth is, all I’ve got to show for our entire relationship is an unhappy liver, a lot of headaches, and a big fat ass.  So, thanks but no thanks.

I know we had that delicious love affair that day last week, but until you can leave me satisfied for more than half an hour and without the morning after guilt, you can take your Rangpur limes and hit the road.  I deserve way better than this shit.


PS: Tell that bitch Cabernet, we are sooooo on a break.  She knows what she did.


2 Responses to “Dear Tangueray,”

  1. I know this is junior high, but can you break up with Chicken Sandwich with Mayo for me? Or could I just send him a text?


  2. Sure. CSwM says he never wants to see you again. You’re welcome.


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