Sometimes I wonder if my friend studies mystic Christian theology because he's afraid to come out of the closet. Evidently, it's okay to talk about God coming inside you, but not to say the same about dudes.
So he says "lean over this" which is a chain across the doorway, held into the wall with bolts. I do. Then he puts his weight on top of me to try and get it in.
It breaks. We fall.
I now have a broken nose, a concussion, and an infected, split lip. Why do I have the worst luck in guys?
I have a feeling that after last night, i'm not just going to hell. i'm going to hell on a full scholarship. free admission bitches
Pizza is the life boat of my drunk Titanic
We asked "Is that Andy puking in the bushes, its 7 AM" he looks up and goes "It's okay guys, its 7:30"
he sent me a picture of his dick with a heart border around it
I HAVE stop dating guys for their prescriptions, you have no idea how awkward family dinner was. Thank god for his xanax.
Apparently as she was dragging me out of the club, I was clinching onto this european guy screaming at Jenna: that's the 12th time you've cockblocked me tonight
The word cocktail makes me want to rip my liver out and nail it to a cross.
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
I used my tears to chase my tequila. You could say I rallied.
There's someone howling in the parking lot. Haha.
After I'd been making out with her for a good 15 minutes some guy yelled "grab this chicks beer she needs both hands!" And he was right I did need both: god bless jello wrestling.
idk how I feel so profoundly understood by someone whose latest tweet is "labia majora's mask." but I do.
Just puked in a cup. Poured it out the window.
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