Can I buy you a drink? You seem like the type of guy who’s waiting on a freelance check from Vice.
Are you a member of the indie folk band Big Thief? Because you’re stealing my heart. Also, you kind of look like the bassist.
I could take things slow, but your mustache makes me think you prefer single-speed.
Damn, boy, everyone at this bar must be blind because you’re getting less attention than “Zodiac” during the 2007-08 awards season.
Looks like I can stop messing around with all these Bernie Bros now that I’ve found a Bernie Man.
Searching for the McNally to your Jackson?
I’m not gonna say I’ll rock your bed frame, but that’s only because I can already tell you don’t have one.
Why spend three hundred and fifty dollars on a UCB 201 class when I’d let U-C-me naked for free?
If I spend the night, will you take me to Church in the morning? At the very least, will you take me to the nearest G train station?
How much does a polar bear weigh? Genuinely asking. I’m hoping to hook up with someone who got a four-year degree in zoology as a bit.
It’s a good thing Pitchfork only rates music, because you deserve more than a 9.4, which is practically the highest score they give new music these days. I think the last new album they gave a perfect score to was Kanye’s “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy,” which was, like, nine years ago. Anyway, you’re a 10.0.
It’s an honor to meet the man who revived my favorite blog. Since you walked in here, everyone’s turned into a Gawker.
If you’re looking for an alternative weekend L option, may I suggest riding me? I take far less time to come.
You can stop glancing toward the entrance, because the fodder for your next Daily Shouts submission is standing right in front of you.
