tbqh i don’t eat beef of any grade.
tbqh chipotle’s ’05 e. coli outbreak even turned me off lettuce for a hot sec.
tbqh i’m a farmer’s market bitch now. catch me with my nose in the romaine, winking at the mustache selling sweet potato pies.
tbqh i slipped him my number on a $5 bill.
tbqh we skipped the pleasantries.
tbqh i fried up sweet potato hash in the morning, and tbqh i was distracted by the slant of light on my ass in his briefs.
tbqh i’m rarely brief.
tbqh i like the burnt bits anyway.