bucket of vaginas
The wishful, unspoken defense against random, rogue restaurant flower salesmen who interrup an otherwise romantic dinner with expectation and embarrassment.
Oh, holy fucking shit. This is our first date and here comes Mr 'Isn't your beautiful lady worth a $25 wilted rose?" flower fucking salesman. Yeah, next time you're trolling, being me a bucket of vaginas and then we'll talk. Right now, you can fuck-off.