If You Were My Bitch, I'd Call You B-Cups
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to take this poor, lonely, and hideous-looking, socially disregarded sandwich, and give it an extreme makeover.
And none of that phony-baloney shit either.
Should you need a physician consult, please click here.
Please have your before and after photos or 1000-word pre-operative plan on my desk by Monday am.
I'd love to stay and b.s. about my morning, but this Bitch is off to New York for a few days.
Ciao.
