so its thursday, which means its time to resume communication with you
I've broken several federal laws in the name of sex.
I've decided I'm peeing in a solo cup then throwing it on his windshield. It's official. He called the cops 4 times in our first week at the house. He deserves it, right?
By the way, I got bored last night and just started putting my balls on every object in your room. One at a time.
fuck your need to drink for whitney a thousand times last night.
The thing is that despite the high paying career and the increased responsibility, my life hasn't changed that much. Only instead of blacking out on $2 wells at some dive I blackout on top shelf martinis in a suit. Oh and only on Fri & Sat nights. Being 30 doesn't suck as bad as everyone led me to believe.
Oh Julie took your pants off last night, I put your pajama bottoms on, and Rachel took your bra off. It takes a village.
Pretty sure I just puked up sand. And nothing else.
Yep if he's taking selfies he's probably on drugs again.
He'll only communicate through snapchat with pictures of him holding his cat or his dick. Bit of Russian roulette opening them in public but I did it anyway.
You knocked on your freshman year room door, told the kids who opened it "I own you", and attempted to force-feed them everclear.
I came on her face and asked if she wanted fries with that. Currently driving to McDonald's.
There's a lady rapping at me about making healthy food choices. She lives in a refrigerator. This is not okay with me
And here I am, playing fetch with my cat at two in the morning.
your fucking longboard fell on me while we were having sex you fucking hipster
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