There was so much of it... it was like he poured a bowl of pudding on my face. It's not bad for your hair is it?
I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
I'm about to cry with happyness at the beer that will be consumed
Clearly, I'm already going to hell, so there's no point in trying anymore.
Breakfast-of-shame with my mother. I was in half of a sexy Mad Hatter costume. We had artisan bagels and judgement.
No more fucking baseball tools. Walk-of-shamed home in only a pinstriped jersey and a Red Sox SnapBack.
Having a man strip on demand was an awesome way to start birthday. What more could a girl ask for? U the best!
And after that you guys started calling arbor mist "breakfast juice"
I just pictured ballsacks being shoveled into the furnace of the Titanic.
Ahh, 151. Think of it this way: it took one shot to get you buzzed, I took eight. I may or may not have broken a tv with my skull that night and met someone's parents naked and hungover the next morning.
Well, maybe we can talk about it over a drink and some crushed up vicodin.
i convinced him to be a french maid for halloween. he has no idea what he's in for. i just ordered the breast forms.
I think I was just hit on by Jesus Christ. This is not okay. Bad Touch. I NEED AN ADULT!
Calm the hell down, it's just stoner Bob.
On the other hand, this could be a new level of shame for me.
my face feels like mints and my body feels like tingles
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