No! You Buy Me a Drink

Buy you a drink?  Well, excuse the hell out of me, Duchess.  I couldn’t help but notice that your shoes and purse are worth a car payment or two.  Buy your own damn drink!  Your priorities are more fucked up than Flava Flav’s sense of fashion.  I don’t give a shit if your shoes are Manolo’s or if you’re wearing Gucci panties.   As a matter of fact, I guarantee that’s the last thing guys talk about at the end of the night (“Oh, did you see that girl’s purse?  She was so classy!).

This isn’t Sex and the City.  Real men DO NOT CARE about the logo on your handbag!  As long as your panties are clean, if you wear any to begin with, and you’re not asking me to carry stuff because your high-fashion purse is too small., we’re good.  Save the purses and fancy shoes for a wine and cheese party at Fonzworth Bentley’s house.  I mean, does that pricey ass bag taze muggers?  Does it have GPS so you can recover your two car payments worth of purse if the tazer doesn’t work on a mugger?  Does it keep dogs from smelling your weed stash at the airport?  If not, you need to buy me a drink, moneybags.  What kind of selfish shit is that in the first place, for you to ask me for a drink? You spent more on your outfit than I spend on rent, and you got in for free tonight.

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