I am at a bar watching a rat tail get braided.
You asked the waitress for a vasectomy and handed her a butter knife, like you were ordering something from the menu
duuuude. vodka popsicles DO NOT function.
I never want to hear the words unlimited shots for boobs in the same sentence ever again.
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She gave me a handjob at the dinner table while her dad was carving the turkey. I made eye contact with him. Im pretty sure he knew.
I don't know what possessed you to do that, but you have to give the stripper more money before you try to check her oil or they are going to throw us out every time you do that.
I was all over the place but at every locale you would pop out of nowhere and hand me a huge drink and say "HAMMERED"
I am the fairy godmother of the drink.
Just to be clear, the only reason you're allowed to scream "COCKTAIL SERVANT" at bartenders is because you have nice tits
I swear to god little potato creatures live inside Belvedere bottles and claw at your throat as you swallow shots.
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Oh my god. That was the best half-hour of my life that didn't involve genitals.
I've learned life lessons in Vegas. Mostly, drugs are cheaper than alcohol.
I'm spring cleaning all of the fuck boys out of my life.
I think one of my ovaries is committing suicide. But that is a topic for another day.
I spend so much of my life shaving my body hair off and I want nothing more than his beard in all my hairless places.
That song just makes me wanna take off my top and shake my titties all around the club.
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