Wednesday, September 3, 2008

BlindsideDate

Nothing like a great evening with a beautiful, new, and interesting person, having an engaging conversation, a real nice chemistry, then walking them over to their car to find...

...this plastered on their bumper.

Okay, no big deal, personal politics can wait, this evening's going great, we're going back to her place, no reason to blow it over-

"God, do you hear them on the radio? Could they stop about all this Katrina/New Orleans/Hurricane talk already? Can't they find some new place to worry about? We already helped them enough. Get over it, am I right?"

Shit.

0 painful displays of affection:

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