Ha. Yes. I'm at a strip club. I'm the barack obama of strip clubs
he confessed his love for me, threw up on my pillow and then fell asleep on said pillow. i met him last night.
better than last weekend. things are really looking up for you.
she said they gang banged her to "who let the dogs out." the dude left of the middle barked along. sounds like a good time.
i'm pretty sure i'm on the same train we took last friday..
what?how do you know?
it appears they have not cleaned up your vomit yet.
how do you say happy birthday to the guy that almost got you pregnant? i cant just write the same thing as last year.
I dunno... But she calls vodka "dancing juice"
Teflon bitches. Nothing fucking sticks to this kid, not even a kid. Maury Povitched this shit outta that situation.
And I also succeeded in getting kicked out of a bar when I was drinking straight from the vodka bottle at our table.
Because she seems like the type to give it up for a box of fruit rollups.
last night on the strip the guy screamed at you YOU GOTTA WORK ON YOUR CALVES.
You were discovered in a bush, smoking, and singing "in the jungle" to yourself. Which explains the scratches, but not the orange paint.
I just wish he'd leave so I can vomit in peace.
I can't remember if I puked before or after the shots of absinthe. Or why I thought shots of absinthe was a good idea.
U sent me lyrics to wind beneath my wings
My liver misses your liver
Have you actually looked at the corn flakes box? I don't think the rooster has a soul.
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