Dear guys who yell out of your car while driving past.
All I want to do is walk my dog, without men screaming at me just because Im female, alone and in public. You give your co-inhibitors of trousers with ball space a bad name, and it's not right.
I don't know what you hope to achieve by yelling out, "how's it going" or "Oi...
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I love hugging you as much as Greg Puciato loves free gelato and bench pressing obscene mounts of weight. With his neck.
xoxoxoxoxoxox