If I were trying to take advantage of you I would have maxed out all your credit cards by now.
Well the bottom line is that I had to completely coat my testicles in Neosporin.
and I'm going to name my autobiography "blow jobs with enthusiasm are the best"
I'm naming my autobiography "Reasons Not to Date Girls From Texas."
Getting too drunk for the hot dog vendor to serve me is possibly a sign of an alcohol problem. I threw up in the sewer grates next to his stand
It's sad that the best source of heat that I have is my vaporizer.
i took my sailor hat off and used it as a vom bucket
The good news is that I can 100% reassure you that you did not get knocked up by some creepy Italian dude named Sal Manella last night.
The bad news is that you will never know the name of the guy who may have gotten you pregnant last night because he clearly gave you a fake name, sweetie.
He's single. I'm single. We should rekindle our eighth grade romance over a box of wine and carefree sex.
I AM OBSESSED WITH PORCHES. YOU ARE OBSESSED WITH PORCHES. HOW IS THIS REAL?
We crashed a rave, threw glitter all over Gay Dan and the bartender, broke a chandelier and called ourselves the Kings of Neon.
You got in the cab and told the cab driver "we only have seven bucks so you better drive fucking fast".
And i'll likely end up sleeping in a bush wrapped up in my poncho
Just set out 2 water bottles as an offering to my hungover self.
I woke up on a different floor than I went to sleep on. Can't find my shoes.
I woke up in his closet, with my shirt inside out and backwards, Rolos in my hand, a tortilla with a face carved into it stuck to the fridge with a magnet, a homemade bong next to the bed, and the door off the hinges... I need a chaperone.
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