just stared at ed norton's ass for 26 miles. if there was ever an incentive to run a marathon, that was it. my life is perfect.
Just spit on a sock to clean a spot on my glass table. Oddest combination of so lazy and motivated ever.
So this shipmate of mine somehow managed to throw up in his back pocket.
I don't think I own any pants that haven't seen his bedroom floor anymore...
All I know is that it's pretty damn mean to put a glass wall in a bar.
Our sex has gotten so much better since we broke up.
Your message cut off at "shit on the floor". Your life is incredible.
You're the third person who's asked me for an afternoon blow connection in one day. Unreal.
That's more of a you-issue than a me-issue
The universe is cradling this hangover like a gay couple cradles their newly adopted chinese baby.
He ate the contents of an ashtray and didn't puke, I think he can handle drinking a fifth to himself.
And now whenever I see a documentary about dolphins, I think about sex, which is super weird
almost dropped my phone in the toilet but it somehow bounced off my tit and landed on the floor. Boobs: saving me hundreds of dollars in bar tabs and smartphones since '09
Of course I fucked him. He's a professional beat boxer, his entire job is to do complicated shit with his tongue.
The fact that you screamed, "Alf is my spirit animal!" is proof enough that we're too old for peyote.
I feel like sleeping with foreign people is a long term investment. It's like a time share. Now when I go to London I have a place to stay.
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