I woke up in the middle of the night with a sudden epiphany.
I have a date tonight with a suitor from Match. He’s the total online package: he punctuates, he’s responsive, and according to his photos ( none of which were taken of himself in the mirror), he’s tall. He’s in Rome in one, reading in another, playing with a dog in a third. By the looks of it, he’s a total normie. But then somewhere in my REM it hit me: he wasn’t smiling in a single picture.
I think I have a date with hobo teeth.
Subscribe Via Email
Become A Fan
- I Heart You Rachel Dratch, From Your BFF, Disaster
- The Genius
- This Is The Pits
- The Write-Off
- A Return to Roots
- One Glove, One Heart
- I’m a Fraunt!
- Sugar Coated
- How to Shake a Stage Five Drunk
- A Disaster’s Guide to Fixin’ Shit
- Sea Biscuits
- Guess Who’s Not Coming to Dinner?
- Finally, A Fairytale I can Believe In
- High San Francisco!
- Scent of A Woman