i'm at the st pattys day thing. the bar is packed. they just put on celine dion its all coming back to me now. i'm screaming the words.
it's 1 pm.
He is in the front yard trying to catch birds out of the air with a fishing net.
We pulled over so he could pee and the next thing I know he's running down the hill by himself with his pants down
apparently the bartender would rather give me free shots than tell me that my whole nipple piercing was hanging out
i think i made a good impression on his friends wen i survived 55 cup beer pong
on the way home I asked you what exit we get off at and your answer was "just like the goldfish"
If you don't sing me a lullaby then I'll just take shots till I pass out
I let him do a line off my nipple in exchange for his prescription pain pills. I feel like 3/4 Vegas stripper, 1/4 underbelly of society.
I'll just put on a bunch of mascara and cry right before I get there. Then everyone will recognize me.
He almost got to me tonight but then I was like fuck it I'm going to dance with a teli-tubby on the bar so fuck you
I tried to break it off with the married one. He offered to pay off my car.
The side bitch struggle is real.
Sorry for all the snapchats, I wanted you to feel like u were in America getting plastered with me
YOU DESERVE A GUY WITH A NORMAL DICK DONT SETTLE FOR ANYTHING LESS
There's a weed, money and oreo filled pinata promised for our party.
You know the rule about how you feel bad for getting food and not offering other people you're around, does that apply when you eat burger king at a strip club?
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