I'm taking this stripper home from downtown Minneapolis. At bar close. That's two hours from now. That's shitty enough, going into traffic and dodging all the fucking drunks to pick her (and her friend) up. What makes this even dumber is that I was already downtown. Yep -- I was hanging out with a friend, doing a bar crawl, just now, when she texted me. And like an idiot thinking with his penis, I said, "OK, I'll drive you home!" And I'm doing this because I touched her boobs Thursday.
And the stupidest thing of all is that she lives on the other side of town. So this is my day in terms of driving: I start off at home, on the northern side, this morning; go to work, all the way on the southern end; drive all the back up home, on the northern side; go to downtown to drink with my friend (who, by the way, sprung me this free offer for this crawl, and like with bringing this stripper home, I agreed to it, which means I am ultimately responsible for the stupid bullshit I'm about to do); drive home because I have no fucking idea why I'd be tooling around downtown for two hours; go back into downtown to pick these two up; drive her back to the southern side of the Twin Cities; then drive all the way up north so I can finally sleep. ...
... for a few hours, after which I have to get up and see these guys from my alma mater. I don't know why I fucking do this, I'm a goddamn pushover. ...
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