last night was a success...if success means i don't remember the guy's name and my panties are somewhere in the parking lot behind the bar
i think the next time he gets me off i'm going to scream bangarang
ru fi oooo
A guy at the bar bought me a jag bomb because I'm the chick that frosts his donuts at KT. Never have I been more proud of being a failure at life.
It was like fucking a house. Down the chimney. That deep and empty.
I woke up with a random mailbox in my room with a note that said "this should probably be returned. Happy Thursday!"
and then they started calling me 'Shitshow Shandra', which apparently i took as a compliment.
I feel like tequila heightens the sense of my nipples.
If he really loved his girlfriend then he'd wear a condom when he fucks me.
Seeing Grandma lick chocolate sauce off of the male stripper was definitely not the way I planned to enter the world of legal drinking.
Why am I cleaning the house twerking to anaconda wearing a bears jersey and helmet?
With great liquor, comes great irresponsibility. Remind me of this night tomorrow.
There are no winners in a lube eating competition.
I'm out of milk so I'm dunking my Oreos in Bailey's; this is my life now.
He stood next to me peeing as I was puking behind a car in the parking lot, telling me how much he loved me. On the other hand, he loves me!
the next morning we realized we didnt speak the same language... guess i subconsciously did learn a little german last semester. thanks study abroad.
ah the experiences a semester in Vienna can give you. Frau would enjoy knowing that even while sleeping during class you still managed to learn enough german to get laid
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