Thanks for the drunken voicemail of bird calls. Love and miss you, too.
It's probably just the physical manifestation of slut karma. But i of course mean that in the kindest way possible because i love you and respect your choices
I don't think you seem to understand this concept. WHEN A GAY GUY HANDS YOU A DAIQUIRI, YOU DRINK IT.
of course not. I do my best teaching on a hungover monday. I did the research. im still okay with the direction in which my life is headed.
You call it a hangover, I call it a baby squirrel burrowing its way out of my head.
Pounding your chest saying "me Tarzan" is not flirting or even talking
the new numbers in my phone would beg to differ
The only way that night could have gotten any better would be if a unicorn would descend from the heavens with a nacho bell grande in a bag around its horn beat boxing Hakunah Matata.
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET MY FUCKING CUPCAKES WHEN THE GROUNDSWORKER I HOOKED UP WITH IS LOITERING IN THE VENDING AREA
"I'm looking more at his dick bulge." Never thought I'd hear those words come out of my boyfriend's mouth.
I feel like captain Morgan put his peg leg up my ass
I was drunk and really grossed out when you poured cheese on me and, I guess I just freaked out.
He had all the grace of a fucking hippo and the emotional control of a five year old
Pennsylvania now holds the distinct honor of being the third state I've crapped my pants in.
Now you can NEVER tell anyone that on thanksgiving I took a selfie of my pussy to prove they don't get worse with babies.
Thanks to you I can't show my boobs tomorrow for the interview.
You came in wearing a whipped cream bikini what did you think would happen
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