i told the bartender last night that if the palace saloon made a calendar he would be every month.
All I remember about walking back home was that I maced my shadow.
he kept doing his monologue, "if a vagina could talk."
I didn't want to have to tell you this, violating our brother/sister code not to discuss these things but: for the love of christ stop inviting that 21 year old idiot I slept with for six months to EVERY PARTY WE THROW.
And the funny thing is when I went to the kitchen this morning, all 4 pizzas were still there in their boxes, untouched. My question to you is: what were we eating last night?
Exactly. So you're exempt under the "I can't just fuck her to make it go away" clause of 2010.
I resisted the temptation to hold the cake in one hand to alternate bites with the ruffles I was eating. I decided that might make me look dysfunctional.
No one likes a giant penis on their phone screen. I mean cmon. I'm a lady.
It was only in the sobering silence of the wilderness on the mountain, after I was too tired to talk anymore and I also didn't want to tell Julian that we were lost, that I realized how super tripped out I had been the entire time...
You also proposed and then tried to jack me off
We figured you were on something when you said that your nipples couldn't hear the music.
Thanks for listening. You're the first guy I've ever worked with who I didn't want to fuck.
I crawled to the bathroom this morning there were cornpops scattered on the floor? What was I doing last night?
i now regret my decision on turning down your offer of sex in the backseat
I had a dream I hooked up with Post Malone. I can still smell the dream
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