Dear Reader,
Is your significant other into S&M, furries, and terrible wannabe-Twilight fan fiction?
I just made your Valentine’s Day shopping easier than me after two martinis. You’re welcome.
Love,
Smug
Oh. My. Fucking. Hell.
I can’t even.
A hundred dollars. For a bear. Who’s almost as tall as I am.
I am a grown-ass woman with clutter issues and no money. I would literally be more inclined to have sex with you if you presented me with the $100 in cash, rather than in the form of some hulking stuffed animal who probably goes all Ruxpin and plots my death while I sleep. (Whatever, you know Teddy Ruxpin was into some fucked-up shit. Creepy little bastard.)
For the record, I have never once asked a boyfriend if I looked fat. I have eyes, a brain, and a mirror — if I look fat, I can see it for myself.
P.S. I sent this to a friend and she wrote back:
“Is this commercial just code for a sex aid for furries? I was waiting for the part where they talk about ‘yiffing’ and the storage compartment where the dildo goes. But it’s possible I’ve just been on the internet too long.
“Also, if you’re relying on purchasing stuffed animals to help you get laid, you might be a pedophile.”
Smug Singleton 