you sang the finger bang song from south park while fingering me. needless to say, kind of a turn off.
I just got a facebook invite to join a group called "bring back the old franzia spout." i never want our generation to grow up.
You rolled out of the car, got on all fours and puked then just nonchalantly stood up and waved goodbye and thanks for the ride.
Bookstore boy and I went out, he came back here and I tried to fool around and he respects me too much blah blah I'm a predator.
In the 30 seconds it took me to leave the bar I let the barback motorboat me, ripped open a stranger's shirt and bit his chest, then made out with El Camino dude. No, I'm not coming out tonight.
I don't know if it was his cologne or his Jesus hair, but he was much more fuckable than last time I saw him.
Now that I think about it, it may have been the 6 pitchers of beer.
I feel like I just lived out a children's book called "The Day I Went to Law School Stoned"
Well, it's a fine line between people-watching and boob-staring. It's a gray area. But we're in Paris. Let's leave it at that.
White girls? They're everywhere. In packs. Drunk white girl packs.
I want to die, ON THAT, with that INSIDE ME. ironically, I sense that would be the only time I'd feel alive.
I can't tell if this is a hangover or just a perfect combination of shame and regret
It's not a funeral, it's a celebration of life. Going commando AND braless is really just honoring him!
Do you know how close I got to throwing him over the edge of the canyon?
So how do I tell him I've been sleeping with his wife too?
I called to inform you I may or may not be getting laid tonight ...
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