The other day a guy asked me if I wanted to get "splattered?" I figured we were going for cocktails. But by the time the fourth man-load shot across my face I guessed that drinks were out of the question. "Thanks," I said, as I landed a juice bomb of my own all over his ankles. "Sure," he said, and he reached for his socks.
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The other day a guy asked me if I wanted to get "splattered?" I figured we were going for cocktails. But by the time the fourth man-load shot across my face I guessed that drinks were out of the question. "Thanks," I said, as I landed a juice bomb of my own all over his ankles. "Sure," he said, and he reached for his socks.
