You were running around the house with a purple crayon asking people to call you harold..
The only birthday messages I got from men were from my 8th grade boyfriend and the bouncer at our bar. I think I'm doing something wrong in life.
Nothing makes my dick softer than hot girls in rain boots.
I have only been in this city 3 nights and there are already 4 bars I can never go back to again.
He's drinking red wine in a margarita glass. He couldn't be more perfect for me.
Woke up with 3 sports bras for underwear. Valiant effort drunk me.
I've decided I'm peeing in a solo cup then throwing it on his windshield. It's official. He called the cops 4 times in our first week at the house. He deserves it, right?
God damn him and his understanding ways and little hip muscle things.
I think I died last night. I had 14 beers..well 13 1/2 if you count the one that got spilled on the baby in the elevator.
You can wear my underwear. It'll be like old times.
You just yell-acapella'd the theme to fresh prince of bel air to me while a different song is playing in the bar.
We had sex on a lawn chair while fireworks were going off last night. It was unavoidable that I got mosquito bites all over my ass
GET ME OUT OF HERE THE DOCTOR KNOWS HE IS JUDGING ME I DEMAND A PRISON BREAK
Do you guys think there will be a coke-for-Molly barder at bonnaroo?
It might be whiskey, but I view Marge and Homer Simpson as something to strive for
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