I don't really think it's too cool—regardless of how fucking wasted you are—to pee off the side of the porch next to the bar. Just because you're a dude and you can just whip it out, doesn't mean you should. For one, when I squeeze past you to go into the bar, I have to smell your goddamn urine, an intimate thing I do not wish to share with a stranger. I even walked up the stairs loudly so that maybe you'd fucking wrap it up already, but you just kept fucking pissing away like it didn't even matter. If I wanted a golden shower, I'd get my boyfriend to do it, not you, you hippie-ass motherfucker.
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