I seriously fake cumming more than i poop.
I found a map from his room to his bathroom this morning in my purse. Apparently I was too fucked up to get there without one.
He's drunk and putting on a tie for the jimmy john's delivery guy
note to self, drunkenly bedazzeling the silverware was a stupid fucking idea
Didn't I tell you I have developed a shameless theory about farting anywhere and everywhere? I'm too pretty so no one suspects me.
It's like god touched my soul and said 'you will be great in bed'
I'm pricing out a roll of that wax butcher paper. We fuck too messy and I can't afford to wash them every afternoon.
You should have totally come, I started watering down vodka with cider. I have lost the sense of taste.
Literally the only clue I have to try and figure out my blackout adventures is a draft on twitter that just says "Mummies alive!"
I can get there in 20, one question, Drress Code? Stripper Lite (make up may require an additional 5-10 minutes), Suggestive Professor (professor Kamil's cleavage ain't got nothing on me), Daywear, Dyke (and trust me you ain't seen dyke), or Exactly What I'm Wearing Right Now. (all of the above may arrive under a coat and are subject to my level of sobriety. Which is currently like nonexistent).--xoxo you know you love me, Gossip Girl.
Yes, if by 'finishing my business' you mean vomiting in her bathtub and losing my watch.
I got a lap dance last night from a girl while I was wearing a Captian America onsie. My life does not suck.
I possibly am a tad bit not really but maybe slightly intoxicated.
I figure I since I made out with him that I at least had to save his number in my phone.
Moms passed out wet and naked in a rocking chair again....
Randomize
