I just saw how many times I called you last night. You're welcome.
Last night at the bar my fuck buddies found out about each other.
Wtf? What happened?
Not quite sure but they rock, paper, scissored to see who was taking me home.
Right now, my father is sitting on the couch, totally smashed, crying, eating pringles, and watching the credits of Transformers 2. Love him.
Let's just say that watching the sunrise in a space helmet is really the only way to do it.
...then she kept trying to make balloon animals with my flacid penis. I'm never drinking whisky with you again.
Getting a vibrator would be like waving the white flag of surrender in this war against my vagina and its hormone army.
Sounds good. I will just get tanked here and wear this batman mask.
I mean, I introduced myself as "the after party". I think he knew early in the night he was in for a bangathon.
Like my new perfume? It's a combination of Fireball, sex and bad decisions.
He was asleep with his head on a windowsill and you were petting his head, then you almost left the kitchen and then went back to pet him some more.
I just wrote a love letter to my weed and texted it to my cousin. I can't say it any differently. It happened.
So the other day we finished having sex and he literally said "what are we going to do about your vagina?" Like, I hadn't even dismounted him yet.
To be honest. I have two poptarts in my jacket pockets. No one knows. I am pro stealth.
Like if Ohio doesn't think I can get smashed on wine I will gladly prove them wrong
yea, she was legit pissed that her rasberry vodka ice cubes never actually froze. but we couldnt convince her otherwise.
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