So I just went home and made my own spanx by cutting the legs off of a pair of nylons. I'm either a genius or missed my calling to live in a trailer park.
These shoes are way too nice for a walk of shame. Its how I keep myself in line.
This isn't fair. Why can't sober me be good at bejeweled?
If we laid all the dicks that's have been inside of us end to end it would be as tall as 4 story building. 40 feet of dicks.
That hot guy i showed you guessed my exact bra size. I want to have his tan babies.
Also I played a weird game of chicken in the ladies room at work between myself the person pooping 2 stalls over and a very determined maintenance man.
I'm just waiting til he drunkenly pisses in his new man's car the way he always whipped it out and went Bellagio in mine.
The last thing I remember is singing hotel California with a hobo and asking every bald man I saw if I could touch his head.
We just got home a lil bit ago. No sorority girls showed except the ugly swimmer chick and she asked if I've ever faked an orgasm.
I just need to drink whiskey get off and eat some cheese. Why is that so fucking hard for god to deliver.
You can't just say you're dying of terminal cancer everytime they try to card you
My life has evolved from screwing randos, ok?
you said "it's karaoke night" and tried to use my dick as a microphone
Apparently his version of saying "I'm Sorry" is streaking around our apartment building then asking for a blow job.....
when I finally sobered up enough to get out of bed this morning I went to talk to mom and forgot that I had TITS written in big letters on both my hands. I love drinking games.
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