It was just one of those nights. Plenty of beautiful ladies, good tunes, etc...and..."HEY LETS SEE HOW FAR WE CAN SIT FROM THE STAGE AND NOT TIP ANYONE! WON'T THAT BE A GREAT WAY TO SPEND A SATURDAY? LET'S TELL HER WE'RE ALL NAMED TIM HUR HUR HUR." (Psst. You, yeah...you. Go DIE.) Otherwise...VIP's, not many, though the couch room did quite well. I just found most people tonight guilty of heinous douchebaggery most foul. It was one of those evenings where I just really wanted to roll downstairs and start randomly stabbing guys in the face. If you're not going to spend money, could you at least not be a gigantic twatwaffle? Is that too much to ask?
Here's a perfect example of the fuckjacks we had in tonight. I'm in the mens room, peeing. I go to wash my hands, a guy walks in. AND-
-YO YOURE THAT TALKING GUY~~~!!
-Yes sir, that's me.
-YO HOW MANY THESE BITCHES YOU FUCKIN? -Um...just the one, sir, the bartender. She's my wife.
-NO SHIT?!?! SHE'S HOT!!
-Yes, I am aware of that. Thanks though.
etc. etc. etc. ad nauseam. "Who gives a 'GOOD' dance"?
Eh. Don't mind me. I want to kill people. I also want french toast, and that's easier and far more legal.![]()





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