What's your gripe against Sailor Jim?

Not a thing, he's my HERO!
 
He took my best sundress and let his parrot poop all over it.
 
... that he's either not new in town, or just doesn't respond appropriately to the question.



-Kurt​
 
Dude owes me about $50 for keeping my mouth shut about *that night*.

Remember, Jim? A deck of cards, the extra large bottle of shoyu, some one-eyed floozy with an uncontrollable arm spasm, and a half-dozen very surly filipino fishermen with their fillet knives ...

You owe me. You owe me BIG.
 
It also ticks me off that he won't admit that he was deepthroat. Get over it, dude.
 
My problem is that every time he sees the ladies in the room, he creeps out like the shadow with those fancy cogs of his and starts playing real soulful on his gift box when we're supposed to be frisking the whiskers.
 
While some of his merch is fresh to death, Sailor Jim is a skeezy, wylin' baller who gets butt-hurt when his customers shake the spot if they don't have the guap to throw down, yo.
 
Every time I hang out with the Sailor, my wallet's lighter, my head's woozy, and I remember little of what happened the night before. Can someone tell me what went down last Tuesday and why I woke up with a can of sardines and the number for an all male review club in Jersey?
 
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