'Watching yourself cry on Photobooth' is the new 'watching yourself cry in the mirror.'
Sorry if I ruined your sex last night with my constant text updates about the plot of Bolt.
we dont know what were doing after yet. first up we have 90 beers and a party kit and fun hats.
It's underwear night and I am literally in the bar wearing nothing but underwear and flip flops.
The only thing the cop asked me is..... "how are you still alive"?
I literally might walk of shame home on a cable car. If that doesn't scream San Francisco I don't know what does
just cheers'ed a flock of cattle as i drove past eating a burger i bought 7 hours ago. that high.
I'm also 3/4 on the frats. Its like my goal of traveling to all 7 continents, but different somehow and a lot less morally sound.
So im guessing you dont remember the walk home, where you layed down in the alley and began to sing "threes company too" and when i told you to get up you had the nerve to tell me i was to drunk.
I'm skyping with my parents and reading Cosmo articles on giving great head. I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up, baby.
My liver just had a heart attack.
Who knows. Maybe the world would be a better place if more people sent their drug dealers thank you cards.
I'm in my math teacher's garage hiding right now because I fucked his son last night. It's fine
What is it in my brain that makes me look at a penis and think "that belongs in my mouth"?
You pee in parking lots....i drive home naked.....thats the american dream i was promised
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