when "blow-job jen" drunk dials you at 3 in the morning, you answer
all a guy has to do is give me sprinkles and cookies and they can get me in bed
we boned then he told me that he had a thing for my gay roommate. worst night ever
you're a mystery wrapped in an enigma. wrapped inside a burrito.
So I have the professor convinced that the textbook will take another week to deliver. that should give me enough time to replace the cash i spent on strippers.
It's official. I now have that "I was drunk and needed the money" college story to share later in life.
I'm going to call you, don't answer. Need to practice moaning to your answering machine again
no dude free pina colada`s taste like what I would expect my penis to taste like except gay-er.
Oh no, we smoked the revival weed. It came in a Batman bag. It hit like justice. And orphans.
He initiated the conversation by sending me a picture of his penis at 4 am
When we were texting for those few weeks, I some how established a crush on you. And its weird and wild and stupid and silly. But these things just have to be said sometimes to determine what's real and what is infatuation. And to suffer the consequences of five am drunk philosophy. No regrets.
I don't think that calm, have their shit together people actually exist.
All I know is that I woke up with glitter all over me and blood on my shoes. It wasn't my blood.
just imagine me sitting naked on a toilet with a fully-clothed dude i havent seen in 2 years, trying to make normal conversation except that im covered in blood and he's helping wipe me down while i try not to pass out because blood makes me NERVOUS. And he's apologizing and i'm apologizing.
Fun fact: deep throating plus dehydration plus eating a lot of citrus = my throat is fucked. Metaphorically and physically.
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