(Though scrumptious beyond measure, they will be paid for in more ways than one.)
I mean no offense, but I will admit it wasn't your winning good-looks that grabbed my attention. I saw you wolfing down that jalapeno-covered mess and thought, hey, i'd like some of that. Why wait in line like an idiot when I can surreptitiously steal one of your own nachos? I am hungry, after all. Like a classy lady, I heft up what little cleavage there is to bear and seductively (ouch) ask for one of those tasty-lookin' nachos. Close (?) but no cigar. Literally, since apparently I "reek of cigarettes." Oh yeah? Well you reek of bromance and self-disdain, heh heh. I see you there with your only two friends, eating your emotions like Tamara who just got rejected to the Sadie-Hawkins dance. Boo hoo. Lemme get that nacho!
Generosity shining through, you admit that you don't give nachos to smokers. Well, la di dah, aren't you the pick of the litter. That's discrimination, if you ask me. You didn't? Well I suggest you and Rob Reiner settle the task by visiting your vacation home in Hawaii. Or Mexico, whichever it is, ya snooty bastard.
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