- Your paycheck.
As Rachel Green would say, “Who’s FICA? Why’s he getting all my money?” - Closets.
I have lots of shoes, and they need a home. Never mind my shirts, pants, dresses, handbags, scarves… - Engagement rings.
The more carats, the more he loves you. Remember that. - Classes.
I prefer my classes to be big enough that I can hide in the back when I’m hungover, half asleep, and still wearing my clothes from last night. Or you know, not show up at all. - Purses.
The purse-to-occasion ratio is very important. Does the outing call for a wristlet? A clutch? A satchel? A tote? Decisions, decisions. - Televisions.
You don’t want to have to use binoculars to make out Channing Tatum’s abs when you watch Magic Mike at home, do you? - Cars.
Some people select their cars based on how many friends they can drive around at once. I go with how many shopping bags I can fit in the trunk and if the backseat is roomy enough for some carnal car activity. - T-Shirts.
Always the bigger, the better. - Wine.
The standard bottle of wine in the US is 750 milliliters or 25 fluid ounces. A standard box of wine is three liters, which is the equivalent of four standard bottles. If I can only afford one, you know which one I’m going to pick. - Heel Height.
The size of the heel should always be chosen in relation to the probability of you getting shitfaced and falling off your shoes, resulting in a broken ankle and shattered dignity. - Portions.
Unfortunately, you actually do have to watch the size of these if you want to lose weight. And no, a single portion of pizza is not one whole pizza because life isn’t fair. - Tips.
If you leave less than 20%, you’re an asshole. If he leaves less than 20%, he’s an asshole who’s not getting a second date. - Bras.
Not that boob size matters, but having the right size bra definitely does. Besides, nothing says “I’m full of tricks and magic” like the perfect push-up bra. - Condoms.
Bottom line: babies can happen when a condom is too small or too big. Do you want babies right now? I didn’t think so. - Beds.
If I’m sleeping over a guy’s apartment and he’s got anything smaller than a queen, it’s gonna be the last time we have a sleepover at his place. I need my space (to sleep. The rest of the time I’m clingy as fuck). - His Wallet.
When all is said and done, the only size we care about in relation to him is the size of his wallet. Sure, a big penis is nice, but a big paycheck is even better. And I know, I know. They always say that “money can’t buy you love,” but, well, they were wrong..
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