That level of drunkness when you’re actually convinced that you’re a good dancer. TFM.
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Disagreeing with Hillary’s presidential policies, but agreeing with Waka Flocka’s. TFM.
The bushes in your front yard containing enough aluminum to feed a homeless man for a week. TFM.
Sometimes it’s a marathon. Sometimes it’s a sprint. All that matters is that I finish. TFM.