We even fucked WHILE he was making me breakfast in bed.
There comes a time in every man's life where he has to shit in a catbox to prove a point.
the last thing i remember is inserting the sippy stray into the jack daniel's.
Should I feel bad that I fucked her and made her ride my little brothers razor scooter home?
I literally paid him in shots to clean my entire apartment. he even vacuumed...who said alcoholism is a bad thing??
He started to lose his balance halfway through his "commencement speech" at the top of the staircase. The rest is bloody, profanity-laiden history.
It's all fun and games until you throw up hot cheetos in your drawer.
She was blowing me when her roommate came in and goes "you want me to tap in?"
You realize once your inheritance is finalized this shit will stop happening right?
You kept running up to married couples, taking their pictures and begging for them not to get divorced
You grabbed the hot guy that was making out with his girlfriend all night, slurred "I need to borrow this" then shoved your hand down his pants. All because you thought your ex walked into the bar. It was majestic in its shitshowness.
Also I've come to learn that "type" and "fetish" are different things. Apologies for earlier confusion.
you don't understand it took me an hour and a half to escape that bed, I had to memorize his sleeping patterns.
He told me he was gonna go wash a trailer and somehow I ended up eating vodka fruit with children in a green bean field.
My mom just woke me up with a cowboy hat and sunglasses on. It's 7 am and she's drunk.
We made a blanket fort in my dorm room and fucked in it. Twice. I'm in love.
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