it was nice. we just kind of hung out. she didnt even mention the farting incident.
The walk of shame is far, far worse on crutches.
Packed at 6 am completely wasted. Damage assessment: 12 pairs of socks (no underwear), a flashlight, 3 shorts, shot glass, 8 sweaters, puff paint, one sneaker.
a fat lady just tried to bring a cooler stuffed full with burger kid through airport security. christ I'm going to miss the midwest.
you asked "if this appropriate to take the the bathroom?" while holding up a bottle of vodka when you went to pee.
I gave you a 45 minute blowjob. You were inside me for 3 minutes. I'm going to need you to get your shit together.
You have to stop getting hammered and preaching about that mission trip to Haiti.
I remember just enough about last night to wish I didn't remember anything.
I've made friends with the guy dressed as a gorilla that was chasing the guy dressed as a banana around with a super soaker full of vodka. I feel this will be a good relationship for me.
Sometimes I hate my life and then I remember I live in the WORLD CAPITAL OF RUM
I'll explain later but basically I was feeling dangerous, I'm dressed as Ann Romney and Ann Romney is a bad bitch.
It wasn't even dirty talking, it was more like the soothing gentle nonsense noises you make when you've spooked a horse.
So last night was the first of "I got cut off before I walked in the bar".
She made me pour olive oil on her.
Where are you? Where am I? Why am I so red?
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