So many tools at one table, you'd enjoy my italian family
Beer bonged 7 shots of Jameson. I title this night short stories with tragic endings.
I've started grabbing my boobs in front of my lesbian philosophy professor so she'll give me a better grade. It's working...
I need to get my pants from under your porch. People are asking questions.
This milkshake tastes better than sex. Priorities, I have them.
He's coming back with me for the week. It took me saying "I don't wanna drive myself home... I'm better as a passenger giving road head" for him to jump at it. Rack another one up for my magical openings.
Let me shower first- i smell like sex and rock climbing (not so sure how that happened)
he had me stop mid-blow job to make me use my phone to id a song on the radio..
i wasnt really sure how to responde to that.
The forecast for tonight is alcohol and low expectations.
You're the only meteorologist I listen to.
We're like a dynamic duo.
Bisexual and Proud, Lesbian and Loud.
I vaguely remember a drunken mid sex pinky promise to not let it get weird.
My new years resolution is going to be to stop drunk snapchatting old hook ups asking them when we're going to bang again
I'm not going to drink anymore, and on that note I'm not going to drink any less either, so I'll see you there. . .
To the woman who just heard me unscrew my flask in the Denny's women's bathroom at 10am: discretion isn't required but greatly appreciated.
Did you at least share?
Hey! Its not the first time I've been eaten out in a bridesmaids dress in a church by a groomsman!
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