So according to Taco Bell, guys love bacon.
And according to my friend Bridgid, this is the reason I am still single: I fail at bacon therefore I fail at finding a man. Because we all know that if the girl can't fry bacon, the guy isn't interested.
But according to my calculations, isn't it the man's responsibility to bring home the bacon?
Exactly.
So, Mr. Wonderful, whoever you are, wherever you are: I've made the executive decision that you will be in charge of bringing home the bacon ($$$) and preparing everyone's favorite porcine by-product.
This way, we can be sure that 1) we won't be living in a shoebox; and 2) we won't have need of an outrageously expensive fire insurance policy.
(Oh, and ps: That commercial makes me laugh. A lot. It's something about the way Blondie says "intoxicating" and then gives that little nervous giggle. Love it.)
(Oh, and ps: That commercial makes me laugh. A lot. It's something about the way Blondie says "intoxicating" and then gives that little nervous giggle. Love it.)
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