Roll my eyes so hard I end up staring at the inside of my skull.
I’m not the brightest light in the world, and I still have to pause mid-conversation to define words for grown women with degrees. Do you seriously expect me to pretend not to be bored by the clever hijinks and sassy repartee of a twenty year-old dim-bulb with one hand in her panties and a delusional sense that she’s a prize to be won?
C’mon.