I just realized that "Hey girl, when you gonna let me tap that?" is in iambic pentameter. I'm going to write a poem...
Her dress is practically falling off. It must know I'm here.
Had "I should be in prison or dead" storytime at the bar. Found out James has done blow off a dead guy. Overwhelmed and speechless.
He told her hed rather go bobbing for apples in puke than have sex with her.
I keep telling myself last night was not real, not real, not real. Then I remember I can't move. This hangover is too fucking real.
This is irresponsible on your part, leaving me alone in a bar.
Here is a brilliant idea passed on from men who have that same regret. WEAR A FUCKING CONDOM ALWAYS.
she was braiding my hair and singing forever young while she vommed everywhere at the same time. Talent.
I feel like he's mythological. Like you just had lunch with the Loch Ness Monster of hotness
I thought he was having it in Athens. Alright. Have fun. Please save my dignity and refrain from talking about my boobs and sexual "abilities". If I have any. I just feel like they are going to ask. Repeat after me. And repeat it 5 more times. This is going to be the phrase you're going to rely on tonight: "I can neither deny or confirm such actions."
I'm going to fake an anxiety attack to get to the front of the line. Save me some brisket.
You yelled to anyone that tried to help you "I have a burrito, what else could a girl want?"
I have a magical vagina and I can't deny it anymore
U sent me lyrics to wind beneath my wings
My liver misses your liver
Btw I definitely had pizza sauce on my face, a painful hickey on my neck, and I just remember screaming SISTER WIVES because of the girl's 1997 jean skirt! Wow.
Randomize
