I really like you and I'm tired of just hooking up. I want you be my boyfriend.
Uhh, I'm not breaking up with my girlfriend to be with you.
how do you wash the taste of whore out of your mouth?
Just found a "how to get laid" book on the dresser and am now a victim of method number 16 corollary 7.
so i literally woke up after a night of doing lines to a bag of pretzels falling off my bed. a reminder that maybe this is a contributing factor to my freshman 15.
No. My vagina is not the scapegoat for your poor decisions.
i get drunk faster, i spend less money on food, and i'm losing a shit ton of weight. depression and its pills are doing wonders for me
I just want to let you know that when you try and lie about the "solid 10" you brought home last night, I've got a picture of her and about 10 reasons you should have left her at the bar starting with those martin scorsese eyebrows.
i'm calling it my monica lewinsky shirt now. may it live forever in infamy.
Don't act like you're not jealous that I disappeared into the closet to blow my husband. Marriage = all the cock I want.
Got back to find Sarah in her underwear eating peanut butter and watching Arrested Development with the thermostat at eighty.
I tried to light my cup as a bong. I'm done drinking
I told the bartender that his red, white and blue shots were terrible and tasted like Thomas Jefferson's balls.
So here's a tip: don't give a blowjob the same morning you're going to the dentist. Cuz they will think you have "mouth trauma."
I was covered in mud from my knees down, I smelt like the inside of a port-a-potty and only had mascara on one eye. . . so you know your usual Sunday brunch.
He was referring to me as "Teenage Dream" the whole night
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