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Eloquence? Mufuckin rite.



Get out of my head and into your car and drive away.

Momma thinks I'm a ho cuz of you ( cuz of me too but cuz of you mostly ). Why don't you pay me next time? Least then I can take myself out to dinner.

Even though I let you up in my jingle-jangle poppin-fresh sugar walls without making you do shit for me. MY BAD- SORRY.

Power trip gonna make you slip over your own damn shoelaces. Even if you ain't got none cuz you don't wear shoelaced shoes.

All I want is to find somebody who looks like you, sounds like you, suck a titty like you, and stalks me on the internet too.  Why ain't you be up on my shit?


I want a man who says to me, "Bitch, I love you. I want to start fights with Albanians who look in your general direction. Your face makes my dick smile. You write super-good. Lemme have you fix me some pancakes. Talk dirty to me in that Long-Island jew voice you like to do- fuck, thinking about it gets me hard.  Let's make a baby and name is Carlisle. Lemme sing at you like an off-key Dean Martin- now get wet slut."

Best get on it QUICK before I find Eunice T. Kawosky. I know he's waitin on me at a rest stop somewhere.


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'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

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'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

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