Fiestas. Its like a classier verson of mardi gras.
I basing my decision on whether or not to date someone on whether I could imagine having sex with them sober
The bender is in full force. After 2 bloody mary's at breakfast we are now drinking vodka redbull "as a precaution" so we will stay awake for the club tonight.
I think I'm finally maturing. I'm happy he found someone. Good for him. I sincerely hope she doesn't choke on his tiny penis.
My relaxing drive may end up as a surprise bootycall in Pittsburgh. Don't try to stop me.
It was awkward at first he now knows I fucked his little brother, they were both there. then the tequila kicked in and everything was fine.
Your stories are the best. I feel like you're a spy among the heteros. It's not fair.
After the 3rd time his brother walked in on us I asked "Does he ever knock?" his reply "This is his room"... Turns out he didn't even live there... I feel like a hoe.
You were peeing on a bus yelling fuck public transit, congratulations.
Yuck. My throat feels like someone chucked a couple of Maltov cocktails down it and finished it off with a super soaker filled with Jameson.
My inner pteradactyl is also confused.
So now I know what having sex while surrounded by chickens feels like.
The main motivators in my life are my sex drive and spite
For some reason she gave me a handjob. It was all very confusing
The guy in the room next to me just offered to hide the next dose of morphine he will get for his broken leg under his tongue and then swap it with me in exchange for a roll of the good toilet paper my parent brought for me last they visited. The psych ward is a lot more hardcore than I thought.
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