I woke up this morning with "guy in polar bear j.crew boxers" written on my stomach along with a 5 digit phone number...
girl is pretty boring. i'm gonna see if she'll let me finger her.
I'm already at the bar. It's 2 PM. Help
drunk lawn darts. Let's test the homeowners policy
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
We didn't need to cut her off. I'm pretty sure the lit candle she almost drank would have done it for us
I fell asleep at the bar. And the bouncer threw a snowball at my face.
Oh god I can't handle any more dudes. I just walk of shamed to work wearing a guy's boxers and a life jacket. This summer is going to kill me.
You got the whole drunk bus to sing, "In The Jungle" while conducting with your glowsticks.
Here is a brilliant idea passed on from men who have that same regret. WEAR A FUCKING CONDOM ALWAYS.
jut tell him gently that you'd rather spend more time with his dick than his face
Shout out to this stomach virus for helping me prepare for whatever slutty Halloween costume I decide to wear.
Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to pick up rum, beer, and cigarettes. Your holiday will self-destruct if you ignore this message.
Did you just email Kelly and I gay dinosaur erotica?
Bro. I traded my coat. I have a Raiders coat now.
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