This week, we shacked up, settled down, and cuffed ourselves into oblivion
What’s our type?
Reach out to thenassauweekly@gmail.com if any of these tickle your fancy!
Mentally-ill: The real question here is who’s tapped into Peanut the Squirrel?
Judger of men: Bot…I would say.
Lover of men: Why is everyone a bot these days?
Judger of men: AI Era.
Struggles with words: I think I will likewise receive the same great pleasure.
Voted blue: I apologize for the dissonance in our humour cognition.
Voted red: I’m not even going to bother looking up dissonance.
English-major: It’s called a joke with alliteration.
ESL: It did not land in our lands.
Legal adult: I thought it was giggly.
Angsty and topical: I would hook up with a ghost. You could see through their bullshit.
Anti-breakfast date: No one feels romantic before noon.
Prego©-matist: I want a sauce-focused pizza.
Fabulous frosh: I’ve been told my hair is half my aura.
Grad student who’s too into Tinder: You should always be with the one you’re eye-fucking.
Softie, drenched in their own spit: I can't believe he actually thought I was crying in the corner and never apologized and on top of that made fun of my country’s potassium production.