Thank you, vagrants, for the self-esteem boost. - w4m
You never fail to tell me something that makes my little heart go pitty pat. You invite me to lounge with you in your classy cardboard digs and enjoy a shared bottle of malt liquor. You tell me I look bangin’ in that skirt. You make sure that I know that I need have no fear for You, unwashed and homeless, find me attractive. I gaze at you longingly from the bus stop bench. I must have been gazing longingly, since you took it upon yourself to plonk down next to me and ramble for ten minutes with your stink breath about how you need five dollars that you might buy your girlfriend a sandwich for her 32nd birthday. You’re 71. You tell me she may be a little too old for you, as you eye my breasts. I go through the day short of breath, touched and flutterpated that you, you handsome toothless hunk of man meat, find me attractive. In fact, I think you would even have sex with me if I asked nicely.
Please. Please, continue to compliment me on my anatomy. It makes me feel so good about myself. How else would I know that my “booty so tight” without you to tell me? How would I get through life without being reassured that you are free to a good home? How will I survive without waking up to your booze and vomit breath for every day of my life?
What? No. Sorry. I don’t have a quarter.
- this is in or around Capitol Hill
- no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests