Memo to the bitch sitting across from me at Swamp: no one thinks you're classy with your Louis Vuitton and your Burberry scarf when you're dragging on that cig like it was the last cock on earth and you needed cum for sustenance.
we were in your room and your mom was singing twinkle twinkle little star in the hallway. so you decided to scream "twinkle? TWINKLE! What Fucking little star?!"
i make up for being a shitty girlfriend by being amazing in bed.
he knocked over the vodka and juice...picks up the cup and says "yes", takes the last sip...doesnt even worry about the mess all over the floor and we continue having sex.
I woke up and blew hamburger out my nose. That kinda night.
I thought of you while cleaning the forehead prints off my glass doors.
Apparently I whispered "Jesus was here" and bailed out of the moving taxi.
Yeah dude, it's amazing. Be careful though, that shit is really really intense. Like it's way more intense than normal shit...
I took two and feel like crushed diamonds spread over glazing marmalade
she kept asking for a lobster dinner while she was crying. it was actually the most reasonable drunk chick request i've ever heard.
Lesson of the night- sweaty dick can get stuck to ice, and require medical attention.
I would convert to being a Republican and Mormon just to sleep with Romney's sons. The things I would to do them.
Dude, you flipped off a cat from my balcony and yelled at it to get a house
I'm drinking and working out! I'm bench pressing the beer pong table and doing push ups and lifting the chair.
Dont ask questions just say words. where can i find plan b?
There is a sex dungeon behind the wine cellar. This is why I hate showing foreclosures.
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