he spit gasoline on a tiki torch to impress a girl. he caught on fire but did get laid. success.
Ketchup is God's man juice
Don't pass out before midnight like you did last year. See how much your year sucked
He just randomly started talking about Haiti and Conan O'Brien and his grandpa's hip replacement operation. It was the worst phone sex I've ever had.
That's the last time we joust in Radio Flyer wagons after margarita night.
Just opened a bottle with my rape whistle. At least it's finally getting used for something.
Things found in my vomit last night: cell phone, Von Hayes rookie card, a boot, my dignity
He's spent his last 3 years working at Urban Outfitters. No, I'm not sad I missed out on a life of mustaches, the dollar menu and shitty scarves.
I would personally love to see the surveillance video of me throwing my stuff inside, peeing on the sidewalk, then crying hysterically when I realized I locked myself out. Again.
I can't ever date him again. Whenever I see his face I just remember helplessly pissing myself in my car.
Can you bring home bongs? Like all the bongs. I need bongs
I'm taking a shit break of discontent as a personal protest
It's taking every bit of my restraint not to go to the store and buy chips and cake and like steal someone's dog. PMS is so weird.
Then, he ate me out while I watched Bo Burnham. Best. Night. Ever.
It may be a corded vibrator from the 90s but it gets the job DONE
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