Talking to this girl is like playing minesweeper on hard. There's red flags everywhere.
he had a sign stolen from the tennis court hanging above his bed that said, "please limit play to one hour while others are waiting"
I'm honestly too sad to drink and hang out with strippers. This breakup sucks.
is cock-oriented a word? I'd say I'm that lately.
Random girl at this party just gave me a lap dance in a la-Z-boy. Night significantly improved.
Didn't get the job. Searched for my references on FB and saw the pic of me weighing my head passed out.
I may have made out with a tranny last night, which, if I don't get fired for everything else that happened, really makes last night epic.
A blow job from a tiger shark would still entail less risk to your genitals than having sex with her.
I just want to have normal problems like what kind of puppy to get, or should I pay a hooker to fuck Scott, or even a dilemma about fucking Twizzlers. I don't know.
Batteries died. I don't care that you're studying for the bar. Come over. Bring the law books and study after. I'll even make coffee.
he appreciated my fucking vagina for two hours he can appreciate my honesty
I feel like there's def a learning curve to the sex swing
I guess I asked for the two old strippers numbers at the end of the bar and it turned out to be the bartenders mom and aunt...
I was giving him head and he slipped one of those hats with propellors on top on my head.
Your Saturday night was spent at the opera, mine was spent exchanging naked pics with a hot middle aged man that is so ripped that he looks like he's photoshopped. This is why we're blood sisters. We balance each other out.
I hate you so hard.
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