I'm sitting next to this guy at the bar. I wrote him a little song in my head it goes "there is no fucking chance you're getting in my pants" gonna sing it to him after he buys me another drink.
I saw his package. It spoke to me.
1 stripper is 160/hr. 2 strippers is 280/hr. it would be fiscaly irresponsible to only get one.
my family just sang happy birthday to baby jesus. no ones even drunk yet
Burger king has cupcake flavored milkshakes. God dammit America.
I ended up giving him head, i think it was mostly a defensive move so that he wouldn't discover i was wearing those onesy spanx
The twins are whispering in turkish together. I think I did something bad last night.
I swear the pregnant cashier was jealous when I bought my plan B
The cops said we could pay $250 or spend the night in jail and get 2 free meals. I might pee in mail-boxes more often
after the shots you kept on yelling "this is for the dreamers"
I just want a whole pitcher of margarita and a headdress from party city and sit around and look like a fucking indian princess.
Also the McRib is back. Lets get high, dress like cowboys, and eat some McRibs.
If your gig isn't over in 30 minutes I am coming on that stage to come on your dick.
I think I'm pregnant again.
or as we call it, thursday.
I mean, I'm not hammered, but I definitely can't show my face or tits in that bowling alley again
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