That's what was written on the T-shirt of the guy sitting across from my date and I last night. When I started to laugh after seeing the shirt, I got an eye roll so intense from my date, I thought her eyes would get stuck in the back of her head. When I said, "Come on. That's funny," I got a 5 minute lecture on how the shirt was disgusting, and that I was an immature child for laughing at it.
I knew well before her harangue that this would be our first and last date since she sat there most of the time scowling with her arms folded, as if she were on the blind date simply because she lost a bet.
Halfway through her diatribe about my immaturity, I started to wish I had actually done some pre-date landscaping just so I could get up, start to walk out, and say to her, "I SHAVED MY BALLS FOR THIS?"