i don't remember her name, but i don't need it unless we decide to hook up again. but even then, i can get away with not knowing it for a while. it's not like we have actual conversations.
i dont know why he would complain when i touch him there.
so just incase you wake up on the couch wondering how you got there--you came home at 7am, put ice in a cup--then you proceeded to put the cup in the microwave and melt it because you "wanted water". you then, fell down the stairs while saying "you don't know me" then crawled to the couch.
We were hooking up and you crawled into bed with us, because you had lost your phone and didn't "want to be alone at a time like this."
Just crossed the line from casual pregrame to public intoxication. Shotgunning in a bus shelter.
We made the pizza boy do Jell-o shots with us. He didn't even deliver to our house, we just called him over from the neighbors
i dont even mind you always shaving my pubes when i pass out, i'm starting to find it liberating.
bleeding from the face, sitting in a shopping cart and holding a wad of ripped caution tape. what else would i be doing?
My life has only gotten better since they built a playground behind the bar
There are 144 bottles of wine in my mother's pantry. She just shrugged her shoulders and said it was for the wine pong tournament on Christmas Day.
Only thig bad about that muscular chick from the gym is she liked it so rough I had to bust out a few wrestling moves from highschool
Have I showed you the picture of my vagina with a little bang flag coming out of it?
He can kiss the multicultural 3 some goodbye
Also, do you have any insight as to WHY I have a note saved from the 17th of June that reads *clears throat*, "you got that swanky blues libido"
the best part is that i get to keep the pot plants and he still has my name tattooed on his ass
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