rough night. sneezed a watermelon seed this morning and apparently I drunk dialed my boss for a ride home. twice.
I think I'm going to die by hangover. I'm in my spanish class. So I guess I'm going to be muerte.
Puked in a plastic neiman Marcus bag while driving. My biggest accomplishment yet
woke up next to her writing my name in some journal. apparently she makes every guy she hooks up with sign out.
Sober me does NOT approve of what went on in my pants last night.
he texted me at 3am asking for "one of my famous blowjobs"
The worst part was I wasn't conscious enough to move out of the way, I knew i was being puked on but I couldn't move.
No. I want to vom filet mignon and ziti bits everywhere and my body feels like I ran a cock triathalon. I feel less triumphant and more like death.
Question: should I be considering heels or is this the kind of night where I should plan on falling on my face regardless of my choice of footwear?
It was a shot marathon. It only ended because we werent drinking in our house apparently we walked into the nieghbors. When they got home thy were soooooo pissed.
I decided to have a date tonight. Back on horse I go. Or aiming to be on a horse cock one day. You know. However that metaphor goes.
Just woke up from an extremely erotic dream featuring Steve Buscemi. Now I can't sleep.
decided to jump from one of the levels of the Westin chicago Nortghwest. it was worth the broken legs.
I learned three things this morning. Don't get out of my car without my keys, don't let a girl paint my nail unless I'm getting laid by said girl, and lastly I learned how to break into my own car.
hey, cheif big dick, where the fuck are my panties.
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