Fancy, Fancy Dining In 3, 2, 1…

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Where the fuck did your parents go little three yr old who was left alone in a booth at Buffalo Wild Wings, can you show me who they are? That man? That’s your daddy sitting at the bar who’s left you unattended for almost the last 30 minutes? Let’s go get him.

Hey Douche-fucking-bag, I found something that belongs to you!! Who the fuck do you think you are leaving your less than 3 ft tall look-a-like sitting in the booth behind me, while you sneak around the corner for fucking beer and fucking golf highlights? You can’t hear her screaming “Daddy where are you?” while she’s standing on the bench kicking the back of it, throwing broken color crayons on the floor?

I get that you’ve probably just filed your taxes, and paying rent late in February is an option so you can party now and pay later. But drink your fucking beer at the table WITH your cute little snot nose percolating child, just like every other normal parent does. You don’t see all the huge ass big screens everywhere? This little girl did not come flushing out of my vagina to warrant my interest in her safety. And had she slid down my grandmaster slip 'n slide, she would be eating her dinner, instead of eating her favorite fucking crayola color. I’m NOT your fucking nanny!

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