Florida Sluts

Personals in Florida, USA

You know Disney World is there.

So you know pretty much everything there is to know about Orlando, right? Um, not quite. One of them is probably getting high next to the Amway, and the other is your cousin the cattle rancher.

In high school you hit up Takeovr Tuesdays at Roxy shhhh! Because he was clearly afraid of chain restaurants and theme parks.

And the highlight of high school was when you got to buy something from the left wing at a store NOT called Abercrombie and Fitch. And they are either morbidly obese or pale sticks in Velcro sneakers. Oh, you hit a few cute little bars on Bourbon St?

With no homeless people.

Err, we mean crack. If stray alligators were homeless teenagers, Lake Jesup would be the Portland of Florida.

Risking a shark attack at New Smyrna still sounds better than being anywhere near Biketoberfest. Blonde curls, pink bows, and matching track suits can ruin even an afternoon with Optimus Prime.

OK, you probably knew that one, but seriously Tilikum: trainers are friends, not food. We probably only know, like, two people who were actually born here.

You cannot drive down I-Drive without almost colliding with someone in a fanny pack. Toyota of Orlando will never embrace technology. The I-4 Eyesore will never be completed.

No one goes to Daytona Beach. Cheerleading season is the death of Islands of Adventure.

Everyone either owns, or used to own, a golf cart. Casey Anthony and George Zimmerman are our neighbors. Mom taught us never to drive on OBT. Blackfish really put a damper on going to SeaWorld.

When they announced a Wawa, two-thirds of your friends completely lost their shit. Make Fun. Thrillist Serves.

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