i told the bartender last night that if the palace saloon made a calendar he would be every month.
he walked in on you at the party drunkenly dancing alone on the bed wearing mardi gras beads, sunglasses, and using one ski pole as a microphone.... and you STILL got laid. i dont get your life.
I put bits of fruit cocktail in the jello shots i made because i knew that they were gonna be the only thing we ate all day
I booty called her while she was in labor.
At some point I'd like to figure out how the weird kid from sociology ended up on my couch naked hugging what appears to be some sort of clothing....seriously it's creeping me out
I will fuck him senseless, no need for a priest.
I only have one eye to read your texts because I just stabbed one out after reading that last text.
I don't know where I am and I feel like a hippo shat in my mouth. This sofa is comfy though.
It's been a year of occasional hook ups....this was bound to happen sometime even with your jank ovary schedule.
My cat was watching porn with me. Weirdest bonding experience ever.
I just smoked weed out of a baked potato.
You rock my world.
How high is the bridge and how deep is the water and what are the chances I will get arrested
...is this motivational speaking, or sexting? It's getting hard to tell.
What happened to no more shots?
It went out the window just like my dreams
It's a little hazey but I think I tried to request Nelly last night. There was no dj. Not sure who I was talking to
He told me that when he bends me over that chair I remind him of a bull rider. So thanks for being the ex that helps my present sex life
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