She had a bottle of NAIR in her bathroom, but she clearly hadn't been using it.
I just did the scooter of shame. New levels of embarrassment have now opened.
We've finally come to the understanding that as long as our conversation stays stricaly sexual, we get along.
My alcohol tolerance is way too high for this paycheck.
She's doing shots in her underwear, a fur hat and mittens. I'm never coming home.
I rarely go in there. Unless it's for mini cadbury eggs and whiskey.
I literally told her "she's a sandwich I'd like to make" and that's all it took
pro-tip: weed infused snickerdoodles are far less conspicuous to eat at work than brownies. no one ever suspects the snickerdoodle.
Post-sex nachos deserve a song.
HI MARY. THERE IS A RAINBOW AT OUR APARTMENT
You yelled "I gave my neighbor some of my bitch sauce" and then passed out. You now have drinking limits with us.
There's some band that practices next door to my apartment. I'm thinking we may need to check that out. I could be like, "Hey boys, thought you might like some lemonade and vagina."
NO TEQUILA
Why do I always think it's a good idea? Like a challenge? Shit maybe I should CHALLEGE myself to get laid for once instead
holy shit the yoga instructor bought his baby pig to class today
Also, two points for knowing me well enough to know I definitely would put the moves on his brother.
Randomize
