i mean, we fucked on the futon in the garage where his band practices. pretty sure im now obligated to like his band on facebook.
3 girls crying in the bathroom at the bar. Its like a Christmas song
I can't believe you just became a stipulation in their divorce papers.
He gave me an elaborately handwritten invite (on a bar coaster) back to his place and whispered in my ear 'i have ping pong'. And he said byob. fuck THAT.
Call me when you get up. This hang-over is like dismantling a bomb: I need someone to talk me through it.
I'll just have to do enough fangirling for the both of us. Nipples engaged.
Operation: pick up a lawyer was a resounding success. Commence operation: football mugshot weekend
I picked a bad day to wear the catch me fuck me shoes.
Did someone catch you and fuck you?
We need a fire pit. Meat. And a keg.I mean like a cow we just carve from. And cook it. We can use the milk from the udder to make White Russians
I don't remember, but I believe your goodnight phrase was "nice meeting you, thanks for not macing me"
According to the boxer briefs I found on the couch when I got home, I take it your date went well??
Do you know anyone else that comes home with unexplainable injuries as many nights a week as we do?
I woke up naked with a duck on my head. I think something went horribly wrong.
I just mixed tangerine juice with sauv blanc. on an unrelated note, my episide of intervention is slated to run in April.
My head is bruised from having sex in the backseat of an explorer last night.
Randomize
