Yeah, you. The one in the taupe dress.
I could tell you’re from Brazil the moment I laid eyes on you. Let’s not make haste, honey. The jungle’s full of wild animals, but here’s one that resides in his own urban jungle. Rawr.
And the tape you used to keep that beautiful garment secured around you…I see how you play your game. My house keys don’t discriminate, my Brazilian belleza.
…what’s this? A bill? Well, sweetcheeks, just go ahead and mark yourself down at a discount — my entourage over at Clear Admit’s got me on this one. But don’t you worry, I’m gonna treat you like you were an MSRP purchase. Oooooooh yeaaaaah.
…let’s set that itchy outer covering out for recycling. That’s right, woman-o-war, you’re not just getting a real man, but an eco-friendly chap that has Al Gore on speed dial and has the digestive system reminiscent of a hydrogen fuel cell.
Wow, you’re a lot more pale than I expected for a Brazilian. No matter. Let’s give the tabloids some dirt.
Alas, my Kindle, this night of unbridled passion must end somewhere. From now on, I look forward to stuffing you in my lappy bag for years to come. Let’s never forget this night of….um….
I need a cigarette.