You're the cunt who just found out you'll get your money back.
You're the cunt who spends her teens smoking as much pole as anyone, and decides it'd be a swell idea to re-discover Jesus when it's my turn at bats.
You're the cunt who makes me wanna learn how to snap someone's arm at the elbow, because it scares me that there are not more spelling mistakes in your comment.
You're the cunt who would give a funny eulogy, so long as I wasn't the dead guy you were eulogising.
You're the cunt who thinks your vinyl collection is of interest to anyone. You hope one day to be photographed for the fashion pages of the newspaper, where you'll try and tell me that the shirt you are wearing is a hand-me-down you found in your great-great grandpa's attic, and not something you spent 300 dollars on in Chinatown, where you think none of the other whiteys shop.
PWT
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