I am in a vortex of obligation.
M and I are hungry and we are making your pizza in the fridge. But you're having sex and we're not so we dont feel bad.
The sex toys I ordered are being shipped to my billing address instead of shipping address. Take a guess where they're on their way to right now - my parents' house. And the package has to be signed for so there's no way around it. Fuck.
I swallowed and made him pancakes in the morning. I feel almost as desperate as Jennifer Aniston at this point.
Then you screamed "fuck her like shes not your sister tonight" at the people walking down the road.
Had no idea what his name was when I woke up. Went through his desk, found his tax records. Ben. And loaded.
Meeting relatives from another state drenched in tequila and smelling of weed. I'm gonna kill you for soaking the only bra I brought in Jose Cuervo Gold.
We could supplement the Tour with Edward Andre-hands. Because 40s are for the 99%.
Although I feel like awkward kinda describes your entire sexual history...
I folded my dollar bills into mustaches in preparation for our trip to the strip club
Whatever. I hate you. My vagina hates you. I hope a bird shits on your head today.
Blacked out and Irish exited last night. At dinner. On a Sunday.
She moved all of her stuff out while we were gone. Shit in the toilet, and didn’t flush. So yeah it went well.
If you needed to get laid tonight all you had to do was ask
The best thing about last night is when drunk Lauren asked cop if she could smoke a joint in front of him. And next thing I remember she’s smoking weed with a cop. How awesome is that.
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