I'll pay for our taxi if you let me makeout with the drummer and we don't leave RIGHT when the bassist does.
I now officially know the distance between my two boobs is one twizzler.
I spent my night drunkenly staring at a picture of John Stamos. How do you think I feel?
OH MY GOD. JESUS STRIPPER. THERE IS A JESUS STRIPPER HERE. A STRIPPER DRESSED AS JESUS.
I can't think of anything besides pubic hair fallout. Ugh.
I can't believe he let me cut his hair as stoned as I was.. I think I even cut my own hair too
yeah dropping that class because i really don't want to be known as the girl who fell asleep in class and threw up as she walked out for an entire semester
Alright, text me when you get close. I've got a mustache and I'm ready to get my day drunk on.
I was thinking that, but I'm not sure the proper etiquette on asking about someone's nipple rings. Even if you did see them and compliment them once.
I refused to call him anything but Drake eyebrows all night.
He was gunna drive a half hour for a makeout sesh. Time to take the diapers off and learn about the wonders of the penis, dude
Can't feel body but making pizza rolls
Damn it. Can't order pizza. Can't do the hot tub. No one to invite over for loud, kinky sex. What's the point of being here alone?!
There is a huge naked guy in the kitchen with the boner of a lifetime and what I believe is an assault rifle casually resting on his shoulder.
So were driving two hours to go to a club and Charles packed me a sippy cup full of tequila. He thinks of everything!
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