September 20, 2007 - 12:00am
By Jenna B.
One New York City Saturday this summer, my phone was graced with a text from Sam around 2 a.m.
“hrey babe, wut u doing?”
In most cases, I wouldn’t bother responding to this kind of crap. If a dude is too lazy to properly type his words or too stupid to figure out how to handle his T9 feature, he’s not going to be any less lazy or stupid in bed. Plus, it’s obvious that the sender of this text was attempting the bullshit move of the century: the mass booty-call message.
