Dude I can't believe you let me go home with the wildabeast lastnight.
You always hook up with hot girls we had to know you were mortal
i think the next time he gets me off i'm going to scream bangarang
ru fi oooo
you didnt remember my name all night. you kept referring to me as "the blonde with the fat ass"
we were like drunken butterflies among sober caterpillars,
you read me verses from the beginners bible until my answering machine finally ran out of time and cut you off.
And then she was like, "don't do anything. No blow jobs, don't let him stick his fingers in weird places because people have germs."
I made popcorn. Partly so the room doesn't smell like sex, and partly to apologize for the things you saw when you walked in...
I feel like everyone would be happy with that as a present too. "Oh you got me pussy for Christmas?! How'd you know?!"
I owe you a thank you for last night. Only you could go up to a guy, ask if he likes my boobs, and return later to find us in a full on dance floor makeout sesh. Well played.
Waiting to interview and found a beer in my purse from last night
It's like... Even my horoscope knows I had an awkward threesome last night.
Since when do you jog?
Since hot shirtless guy that lives across the street jogs
I've faked every orgasm I've ever had, I think I can fake being sick for 8 hours.
I've just realized that today's rations have consisted of turkey bacon and jack Daniels.
Put on your bikini and meet me at the pool \nit’s cock o’clock!
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