Delicate snow angels--
My quest for my next ex-husband continues, and this weekend the quest took me to a flea market.
The cool thing about a flea market is that you never know what you're going to find. I mean, you've been fine your whole life, then you walk into a flea market and realize that you cannot live another minute without a sign proclaiming that you're into TWIN FROZEN SUCKERS for 5 cents, you big perv:
And the same thing goes with men. At a flea market, you just never know what you'll find.
You may get lucky and spot a sexy morsel in his third trimester a shirt that can't accommodate all his gut manliness:
Or you may find yourself on the business end of a true classic--the mullet:
Then, if you're incredibly fortunate, you may find the holy trinity of steamy, hot sex: the overgrown 'stache, the fanny pack...
...and the bald-on-top-long-on-sides hair:
Bonus points for the cell phone holster on the belt loop.
Look at ol' girl responding to all that manliness. And that light shines on his head like a friggin halo.
I think it goes without saying that, yes, I'd hit it. Gut, mullet, and 'stache--yes, yes, and YES!
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