Go get a mirror. It's cool, I'll wait. Ok, you got one, now look at this picture, and then look at the mirror and remember your facial expression. Ready? Here's the picture:
Yes, this is a woman who looks remarkably like Hitler in a apron, peeling old potatoes. This image came from a site that lists the 60 Completely Unusable Stock Photos (go take a gander at that freakshow when you are done with this one.)
What does this picture have to do with my phone having a completely perverted life of it's own? Nothing, but it does have to do with the look on Eric's face when he got home from a bachelor party the other night. That look you have on your face right now? That look of "Why does this exist What is even happening here?"
You probably look like Simon Cowell does right now (only less like a model for a crap romance novel. Seriously Simon, buy an undershirt.)
Eric came in the door with THAT EXACT LOOK ON HIS FACE. Why? Because I had pocket texted him 43 times in one hour. What did my phone auto-correct my texts to say?
ORANGE VAGINA?
Yup. Question mark and everything. So Eric comes in the door, shows me all of these texts, over and over, saying ORANGE VAGINA? and is like "How did you not notice that you were sitting on your phone? And why is your phone sending me ORANGE VAGINA? over and over again?"
"I dunno" I replied, "but I do know one thing for certain."
"What's that" he replied.
"Orange you glad I didn't say vagina?"
And I was completely sober ya'll.
Man, I cannot wait to see what kinds of filthy ads this post will automatically generate. This should be interesting.
What does this picture have to do with my phone having a completely perverted life of it's own? Nothing, but it does have to do with the look on Eric's face when he got home from a bachelor party the other night. That look you have on your face right now? That look of "Why does this exist What is even happening here?"
You probably look like Simon Cowell does right now (only less like a model for a crap romance novel. Seriously Simon, buy an undershirt.)
Eric came in the door with THAT EXACT LOOK ON HIS FACE. Why? Because I had pocket texted him 43 times in one hour. What did my phone auto-correct my texts to say?
ORANGE VAGINA?
Yup. Question mark and everything. So Eric comes in the door, shows me all of these texts, over and over, saying ORANGE VAGINA? and is like "How did you not notice that you were sitting on your phone? And why is your phone sending me ORANGE VAGINA? over and over again?"
"I dunno" I replied, "but I do know one thing for certain."
"What's that" he replied.
"Orange you glad I didn't say vagina?"
And I was completely sober ya'll.
Man, I cannot wait to see what kinds of filthy ads this post will automatically generate. This should be interesting.
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