Where is the hickey?
he told me he wanted to get "words" tattooed on his penis so he could say hes always putting words in my mouth..
as it turns out, there is no "i was in the pool" excuse for adderall-induced shrinkage.
I can't. I can't get out. He cooked me food. And made me jager bombs. And painted a glow in the dark smilie face on my boobs
ok, my life is complete.... the cops AND the paramedic just made a Mean Girls reference...
I'd be there a lot sooner if these damn stairs would stop moving.
Dude. I realize why I got sick. 8 shots three beers in an hour. Plus I ate an expired lunchable earlier.
I forgot how easy it is to have sex in public when you're wearing a dress. Thank you global warming.
Also not to brag but I got high last night and got us a host family in a chateau in the south of France
Well. I mean as excuses for running late go, 'losing track of time in the bathhouse' has gotta be up there on the top ten.
I'm like 'WOMAN, YOU'RE 62, RESHEATH THOSE COUGAR CLAWS.'
I'm on my way to bail our sister out of jail with our mother's credit card. How old are we??
Literally had sex in his grow room under a plant.. ganja queen .
Drunk me also decided it would be funny to change all the passwords on my computer last night. Now I can't log into anything.
Is texting an old booty call with "can you still get your ankles behind your ears?" an appropriate way to reemerge into the singles scene???
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