Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
She can't keep using her latex allergy as an excuse to go bareback with everyone.
Well I woke up with a note on me reading Dear Passed Out Girl, and ending with why I shouldn't drink so much. Damn Tequilla.
Let's make a pact to never get in a cab at 3am together unless it's to go home or for pizza.
There's gotta be a happy medium between the guys who only want to sleep with me and the ones that respect me too much to try to sleep with me.
She's laying here with her head in my lap stoned, eating Doritos, whining about her boyfriend, and listening to Cher. Fuck the friend zone.
its official: beach shits are the exact same as mountain shits
I AM VODKA MAN
Some older looking guy gave me his card as he exited the train. Hes a pharmaceutical rep. I'm debating asking him for a job. Obv he wants sex but if I can get a job out of this maybe I can offer him more than a cheap dry handjob bc that's all I'm really up for these days
And I'm glad you're waiting to invite him over. he may have a weird penis thing and then dinner becomes awkward.
And that was the night we had mind-blowing sex with the score from Raiders of the Lost Ark blaring on vinyl in the background...
I also don't hate being called a giant sack of cheese. Is that weird?
I was like sure, i'll have a drink or two to end the night early. Next thing i know theres a ton of dudes in my house and like 3 gallons of wine. I cant do anything in moderation.
mate iv just woke up in the garden. either help me inside or bring out my vodka
I'm currently using a band-aid to cover my bar stamp from last night while I ask my professor for an extension. That's a sign of getting more responsible, right?
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