The Walk of Shame
April 22, 2008
Ahhhh…the aroma of fresh coffee, the scent was familiar but the surroundings were not. Blurry raccoon eyes, a mouth that tasted like the bottom of a gutter and flashbacks of the previous evenings bouts of tonsil hockey can only mean one thing…someone was a filthy dirty whore who didn’t leave her first date P.D.A on the dance floor.
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