I went home with some British consultant on Saturday night after getting shot down by this other fella that works for an expensive car company. I spent most of my night working on “Car Co.” He bought me several drinks, but obviously didn’t understand the consequences of getting a girl drunk. Liquor + me = SlutFest 2007. I kept trying to kiss him, he kept pulling away. Either he was gay or had a girlfriend or was bad at business, like he invested money then didn’t follow through? This ex-hooker doesn’t get it.
I don’t remember him leaving, but I remember moving on to a British guy who was hot in a bulldog way, and I have a soft spot for UK accents. This Brit had a fancy place and a tiny penis. We fucked for what felt like an hour until he unleashed his ass fixation. Now I hate anal because it hurts like a bitch and unnecessary if you’re in to chicks, but I wanted to sleep in a room with AC and a comfortable bed. Judge me, I don’t give a fuck, I used to be a hooker.
Here is Britney Spears and her nipples looking like the kind of girl that would take it up the ass for a popsicle, and she’d probably buy the popsicle herself. I think it’s safe to say she probably has to purchase her lovers these days, you can see it in her sad dead eyes and sagging tits. So you can dump your internet girlfriend and quit your job at the 7/11 because your chances of nailing her and retiring early just went up.