The only thing I have to prove last night happened is a fireman's hat full of puke.
I'm sorry I dragged a dildo (on a leash) into your room last night.
She said she wanted to have closure sex.
So I found the perfect "Yeah I gained weight since high school but it went to all the right places" outfit for the reunion this weekend.
I left a care package of Jack Daniel's, pancake mix and porn in your apartment. Merry fucking Christmas.
I'm drinking wine from the cap of my laundry detergent container, wearing my bed sheet as a cape. How do you think I'm taking it?
And my only real exposure to Russian culture is you and Internet porn.
You were naked with a chalice of Skittles vodka, singing along to Les Miserables.
I have experienced an excessively hairy ballsack in my mouth...and it was horrifying. I keep feeling it in my mouth now. It's like hairy ball PTSD.
He kept squeezing my butt and telling me how smart I was
YOU LEFT MY FUCKING BRA OUTSIDE OF YOUR HOUSE AND NEVER TEXTED ME.
Just so you know. And I'm telling you this because I care deeply for you. Blue raspberry poptarts taste exactly the same as the regular raspberry ones.
Uhhh...I just found your 10 dollar bill in my bra. I owe you 10 dollars.
So I came to the conclusion that who ever pour my ever clear out saved my life
How's the party?
I'm watching two people get flogged. Sothere's that.
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