A god amongst men, there are few
people truly worthy to be bestowed with the name Andrew. Women want him, and men want to be him. He's the life of a party, even if he's not invited. Andrew is capable of great feats, not just in the bedroom, although he is a consummate lover, but sometimes just out of spite.
Andrews can typically stop a rampaging bull with a strong, frank punch to the
face, yet be as gentle as a mother
doe to her fawn. He's the stuff of legends. Songs are written about him, plays a penned, entire. He can steal hearts with a glance, moisten panties with a breath, and command
loyalty with a snap of the fingers.
In
short, Andrew is the man to be and the man to beat, but few are capable to fill his shoes and fewer still can best him.
Dude, Andrew showed up, this party doesn't
suck to be at any more!
Hey, Andrew, can I have copious amounts of sex with you?
Andrew, terrorists hijacked a
bus full of nuns! We need your
help!
Andrew is my favorite customer. He pays with exact change.
