To answer your question of whether I "went back," tits just informed me I was kicked out for falling off my barstool and passing out on the floor...
Sweet. Might not hurt to poop on the floor anyway.
Apparently I had an idea for a cooking show and then proceeded to throw cookies at people.
He's hinting that I'm starting to be kicked out of their blunt rides, I can feel it.
well I already know I'm going to hell, at this point it's really go big or go home
He and I are basically the same person, except he has a glorious penis and I have glorious breasts.
the evidence from last night is not good...
what evidence?
my underwear is on inside out, and there are french fries in my hair...
No need to talk. Eventually, he'll either stop coming over, or decide that it's a relationship.
And if not?
...I keep getting free bourbon and great sex with no expectations. You really don't understand that there is no "down side," do you?
When are you going to accept the fact he is gay?
Come on... He's just practicing.
Ok. That's acceptable.
Some guy in the bathroom just took his shirt off and proceeded to tell me the story behind all of his stab wounds. That's what I get for making small talk
I asked him if we could switch positions so I could watch the Olympics... I'd say date number two is a miss
I didn't have time to wash my hair yesterday. Ended up spraying some Febreeze on it.
In the name of friendship, I’m going to kick your children into the ocean.
Google Maps needs to have a hungover setting. That bitch talks too loud and all I want is breakfast tacos & a bloody fucking mary.
Who knew sons of strippers would be really feminist boyfriends?
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