(Me and Wally the Evil Badger Cardiologist)
HIM: So let’s go to Plan B. I’m in the mood for candy.
ME: When did you start eating candy? You never eat sugar.
HIM: weiner candy… not Snickers…..you ho-mo-ron …but of course you think food.
ME: Oh really? Why is that you emaciated metrosexual twit?
HIM: Because you eat like a bear with a tapeworm.
ME: Not true. My eating habits are impeccable
HIM: Please. I caught you naked with an empty bucket of KFC, dipping a Haagen Daz ice cream bar into a can of frosting.
ME: That was a LONG TIME ago.
HIM: Not long enough… I’m scarred for life after witnessing that horrible sight.
ME: it’s your fault for walking in my house.
HIM: You said come in.
ME: I thought you were the pizza guy.
HIM: You were naked and covered with extra crispy crumbs and grease, and you said come in, and you thought I was the pizza guy…. I know I shouldn’t ask this… but… why?
ME: I didn’t want to pay for the pizza.
HIM: And you were hoping he was a chubby chaser?
ME: While that would have been fortuitous… the odds were not in my favor… I was banking on him freaking out, dropping the pizza and running.
HIM: I need a new best friend. You’re insane.
ME: No I’m not, which is why I’m not going to Plan B with you.
HIM: Come on, I want to meet some hot women.
ME: Let’s go to the Yacht Club. There’s hot women there.
HIM: They’re too classy. And their externalized locus of control won’t permit them to give into their desire to ride me like the roller coaster at magic mountain without effort on my part.
ME: They don’t need peer pressure to stop them from sleeping with you. Your personality will do that all by itself.
HIM: You see classy women are like turtles, very hard to get on their backs.
ME: Yeah, but once you get a turtle on it’s back… its usually on it for a long time.
HIM: I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe we should go to the Yacht Club.
ME: Great they have all you can eat Sushi tonight.

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