Great. There's a birthday party at work today. Now I can stand around and feel uncomfortable for an hour.
That was the gentlest I've ever been bitten in the face by a dog
I'm making tacos. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't be high while eating those tacos.
I want to say that being forced to stare at the 'no.1 boyfriend' collage behind his head ruined the sex but it just didn't.
It's like eating cereal and milk but instead of cereal it's gummy bears and instead of milk it's vodka.
You cleaned out the gashes in your leg from hopping that fence with that whipped cream vodka, didnt you?
I'm sports announcer narrating myself making a sandwich. Your weed wins.
I just want it to be said that I had sex in my Belle dress last night. Classy motherfucker.
I ran into a wall that clearly had things popping out. My eyebrow was bruised, both arms, the bottom of my foot. Lost half of my finger nail, my fake eyelash was stuck in my hair and I have about 47 blurry pictures of a half naked zombie DJ.
My husband gave me a key to his house. I thinks this means we're getting kinda serious.
Sorry. We had to leave because I knocked a guy out for saying "yolo".
We went from him going down on me to swapping baby pictures of our moms.
I'm not sure if I should pay him or he should pay me, but someone should get paid for the sex I had this morning.
We had sex and then ordered pizza after. This relationship is looking good so far.
Btw, apparently no one knows who ordered the pizzas for the after party, no one paid, and the delivery lady made a celeb shot, took a beer, then said she'd be back later to finish up the game...
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