WTF why am I in the Atlanta airport?
rather than putting your name in guys phones, you just texted 90999 to donate $10 to Haiti and then gave it back to them
I have decided to cut my hair. This is based solely on the fact there is too much of it to clean vomit out every Sunday afternoon.
You're asking the wrong person. I was drunk on nyquil and jager.
i've officially fucked a sailor, a policeman and a biker. I've never noticed my Village People fetish until now...
You only ask me to come over when your gf is gone, and thats usually at midnight to cook chicken salad and watch you pass out
whatever buzz i had immediately ended when i saw her run through a sliding glass door
yea. Don't mess. He will heal me. But my blowjobs will be historical.
Im not coming back to that place until im drunk. If I walk in there sober Ill start screaming uncontrollably. Not words, just sounds.
I feel like my dick pic collection should be archived at the Smithsonian
You rinsed the beer pong ball off in my White Russian
I didn't want to leave, I wanted to move into his ass
What the fuck dude? Now it's a "who is this?" convo going back and forth. Like... helllloooo you just sent me a picture of your penis! I'm entitled to ask who the fuck it is. I can't verify an identity by a body part.
Oh my god, my vagina is cursed. He's cursed my vagina so that no one but him can maintain a boner around me. I'm sure of it.
If I'm not there when the plane leaves, I didn't make it through security. See you at home! Vegas bitches!!!
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