So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
Apparently I farted on her in my sleep. Then, just to be sure she was cool, I did it again on purpose and she didnt say anything. So, WIN?
I just typed 14 shots of Smirnoff into my calorie count toolbar. Then typed pole dancing 1.5hrs into the calorie burner search. Should break even.
Im sending over a girl who thinks youre in the next twilight movie
your the best winggirl ever
you made sure to tell everyone that the amount of people you had slept with was actually quite low, especially when the size of your breasts was taken into account
I should probably just look up vagina pictures in the anatomy textbook. That always cheers me up.
I am way too attached to fictional lesbians.
Found a grenade pin. Still no Dave.
Ok, it's starting to sound like someone's out there trying to learn to play the trombone while breaking kitchenware.
So hungover im counting my own breaths to make sure im not dead. The odds hurt.
If I never see my landlord's dick again, it'll be too soon.
By the way I peed in a mug last night cause you were in the bathroom and im pretty sure it is still in the kitchen.
You had sex with a guy who has a purple beard last night. No Molly for a while, ok?
Oh damn it. Let me get a beer. I can't take anymore bad news. Hold on.
Please come over. It's a pajama and burn-2016-in-effigy party
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