This is true. Well, I'm not too sure about the merits of getting the shite beaten out of me, but hey, it works for the leather brigade, by all accounts. ;)
I have no idea... oh, I know! The bloke behind the bar who gave us those shots towards the end of the night. I think he gave you his email address and number. Only you might have ended up spilling your last drink on it...
Oh, it was certainly not better than yours, but for a man, and one who was not you (unless you have a mutant power you have not told us of), it was quite amazing hair.
It was brown, though. A very nice chestnut brown, but brown nonetheless.
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What else is there? Fight it out, drink it out, or fuck it out.
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You got drunk.
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He had prettier hair than I have. And it was -very- possibly thicker than yours.
Now I wish I had not ruined his email address. He may very well be Medusa's long lost twin...
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(And no one has better hair than I do. That is not vanity speaking it is fact.)
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It was brown, though. A very nice chestnut brown, but brown nonetheless.
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