Hello rock bottom. My name is Jared. Nice to meet you.
which gay bar do you need a ride home from?
you threw up in the oven last night. i found that out after i preheated it to cook a pizza.
so the last visual we have of him for the next 87 weeks is him outside on the ground rolling around yelling I HATE BLOWJOBS
It's because you were crossfaded. And because drinks were 3 dollars. And because they accepted credit cards.
I sang again at the bar lastnight I don't think alanis morrset knew when she wrote you outta know that the drunk version was going to be go fuck yourself Josh and Chelsea. I love $2 wells.
You guys don't happened to be dressed as gladiators, do you?
We fucked to the rythmn of the thunder, it was magical
I just can't promise there won't be a reason to hit you in the face with a dildo again in the future.
SHUT UP I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF UKULELE AND LONLINESS
I suppose what I've learned from this experience is that sometimes you just have to make out with a narcissistic baby daddy to make a clean getaway.
Finding an empty bathroom to shit on campus is like the quest for the fucking Holy Grail. Except with more stench and humiliation.
Your actions as of last night have earned you over thirty new nicknames.
How do you ask the man who gives you multiple orgasms if he has friends who could do the same for your friend?
He's literally cuddling with the washer and dryer.
Sustenance and doggy style.. the only two things I need
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