Ladies we've all been here before. Its Ladies' Night at your favorite spot and your right hand is up and the left got a cup. "Yo song" starts to play over the speakers and you head directly to the dance floor singing/rapping the lyrics when all of the sudden some greasy, sweaty, fawn-key ass, ran.dumb nigga starts trying to grind on you from behind. He then whispers in your ear with his hawt bref (yes, bref) "Um guhl, whatchu name is?"
Use don't abuse (ie. adding me to your site's mailing list). And for the love of God please stop sending mp3 files of your music. I am not Clive Davis and to be frank I probably don't want to hear the shit anyway. You should also know that I take my slow, precious time responding to email. And sometimes I don't respond at all. Fresh.firstname.lastname@example.org
LEAVE SOME $$$ ON THE NIGHT STAND
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