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59 points
Sometimes I’ll stand in front of a door and open it for women. Twelve hours of showing how much I appreciate women, six days a week, no vacations in two years. Roasting in the sun while I make sure they can safely enter Wendy’s, without even being asked. Yet not a single turkish delight of puss. By hour four I’m usually reduced to tears and it changes nothing.
41 points
I just want an ice queen to tempt me into her carriage with a box of gooey, sweet, powdery puss.
21 points
The kind of puss you only want when the entire world is at war and supply lines are being blockaded by submarines. Ersatz puss we eat to pretend death isn’t around the corner.
