If we're exchanging chatty pleasantries in, say, a work cafeteria or a similar-to-not-similar setting and you casually and correctly toss out the word "fungible" -- which ranks among my favorite obscure, admittedly pretentious, and actually quite specific and useful ten-dollar words -- you must marry me before sundown.
You must be male, gay, occasionally employed, reasonably tall,
show-tune equipped, non-shoe-volume-judging, bitchy-cat-enchanting, less
embarrassing than anyone named Donald,
and enamored of guys who can without warning completely black out and
open gruesome disfiguring wounds from crashing to the floor and chipping
the ceramic tile with their faces.This offer is null and void to any
hypothetical female woman to whom I hypothetically proposed for casually
and correctly saying "fungible" in a work cafeteria or a
similar-to-not-similar setting on or around the January 4, 2017,
conventional lunch-eating timeframe. DUDES ONLY.