Glad I put on jeans. You could measure my ass sweat with a rain guage.
my penis says it needs to be in something. my phonebook says its you
It's underwear night and I am literally in the bar wearing nothing but underwear and flip flops.
I don't think a check that has "thx for the drugs" on the note is really gonna fly.
Don't remember much from last night, but I recall slipping you the tounge. For that I apologize
Or I die of a heart attack, which is the more likely/less fun scenario.
his blanket is still in the back seat of my car, its like a constant reminder of his small penis
In hindsight, the torn ligament in my knee is probably the fault of the ginbucket and jager bombs starting at 3pm. I guess I'll stop blaming it on you.
you were standing in two feet of water, screaming at people walking by to "call river rescue".
Knowing that he goes to voodoo every Thursday really makes me want to get myself checked.
I'd cum for enchiladas.
I just want to be able to run around naked and eat grass with no judgments and have people feed me and expect me to sleep all the time.
If I do nothing else today, the fact that I talked you into this is achievement in itself.
My mom is worried I'm not eating enough protein so she's sending me 48 cans of tuna. That's not a typo.
I am texting my ex and my future boyfriend while eating fish and chips with my current boyfriend... How and when did I become such a terrible person???
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