At a bar last night...
“So whatcha got in that murse of yours?” Murse = my pet name for the type of man-purse my friend was clutching.
“Uh…nuthin’, you know, just like, the kidney I’m going to need transplanted after tonight,” he slurred back at me over the two drinks he had in his hands.
“Um, actually, you’re probably more likely to need a liver transplant after tonight.”
“DAMMIT! I HATE hanging out with people who actually know what they’re talking about! Chicks like you SO ruin my game!”
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