And safety comes first.

Saturday, April 16

It's "sweeet," not "sweet."

I saw you with your two friends walking to Brit's Pub downtown on Friday. You were tanned, well-groomed, wearing jeans and a light blue shirt, untucked, cuffs rolled up for that casual "going out" look. You were so L.A. (where I'm from if you ever want to come home with me for a drive up the PCH)--your sandals pulled the entire outfit together. Dude, I totally dig you.

You probably say "sweet" a lot. "Sweet!" when the guy at the gas station tells you to make a right turn on 46th to get back on the freeway. "Sweet!" when the grocery store clerk informs you of the new hours. "Sweet!" when I take one of your sandals and bop you over the head with it, you fratboy fool, you. You probably rave about Chipotle too: "That shit is goooood." But God has not forgotten you, and you will marry someone very special one day.

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