The producers of Marley and Me owe me about $5 million. That's the dollar amount of embarrassment compensation required for making a 24-year-old male cry publicly on an airplane while sitting in the middle seat between a gorgeous babe and a guy with a do-rag
the only time it's appropriate to sing In The Air Tonight by Phils Collins is while sake bombing at Cal Beach
um or while having sex on a train
She just drank the vanilla extract. Again. AGAIN. No one should be that eager to get drunk.
By the way, i got bored and just started putting my balls on every object in your room. One at a time.
Didn't I tell you I have developed a shameless theory about farting anywhere and everywhere? I'm too pretty so no one suspects me.
I love that your last three texts to me were "Drunk." "Getting laid." "In the hospital."
I could probably do something when Im able to get enough strength to think about thinking about to stand.
Honestly I'm not even that excited to see my boyfriend. I'm more excited to see his penis. His penis inside of me.
Last time I was your wingman I had to deal with a girl whose only interest in my body was to clip my toenails. I'm not interested.
My mom just came upstairs handed me an Adderall and asked if I could help her wash the ceilings
I just started an apology with "so I'm sorry about throwing the Brita at your head last night..."
Should we make a shared Google doc list of places we want to fuck? Like a scavenger hunt?
I love you. Doing a double. Going to die. It will be painful. Let the world know i partied. God, did i party.
He burst in the bathroom while I was peeing to hand me my beer I was looking for earlier tht night. And my pants were already down so I thought why not
Santi's no longer allowed to buy booze in my lane. Last thing I need is a midlife crisis looking at his Id again.
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