Clock this, dawg--you done got showed-up fo-show!
And I bet when you woke up this morning curled up under your 2000-thread-count Hermês duvet with a soiled Playboy/girl stuck to your paw you thought you had this little boy right where you wanted him, totally out of contention for Romantic Person of the Year.
But the votes are in and you lost. 7,000,000,000 to 0.
¡Lo siento, cabron!
_
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