she was left over bi-product, like the hotdog of the human race
she screamed "my eye!" and it brought me a surge of bad memories. except she was yelling about a lemon.
Someone wrote Kyle's bitch on me too. I dont even know who Kyle is.
I'll see ya tonight at your house...and I'm bringing you a special treat that starts with a V and ends with us eventually going to rehab one day.
It's just one of those nights that , as long as you have the drugs, everything is going to be alright.
Is it weird to say that getting an std with you was kinda romantic?
I'm sitting on our balcony drunk. And in my underwear. Our relationship with our neighbors may improve.
If I pissed all over some chicks bed I would probably apologize for getting so wasted, not putting out, and turning into a god damn R. Kelly Cinderella... Not ask for coffee and a ride home.
So hungover. I dropped my keys and leaning over seemed a terrible idea. Instead I took my shoe off in the middle of the street and use my toes to pick them up. Think I'm a genius.
Because I know nothing is hotter than ocean themed dick pics on SnapChat...
I don't want anything calamari shaped after last night. But I appreciate the Cheerios offer.
I woke up to both of you drawing on me in sharpie, unless a glorious threesome was had the night before that is not okay.
Who says it wasn't?
I'm 22 and I'm drinking hawaiian punch from a sippy cup. Everything is right in the world.
I have just received a gold-medal-deserving sext. He wrote me a fucking novel. Not only am I incredibly turned on but I am beyond impressed. He is the sext god. I must bow to him.
You will be reminded everyday when you witness my majestic mustache.
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