What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
I'm seriously so bored I'm seeing how many rooms I can masturbate in before I get caught.
Four. Poor grandma...
It's a line of coke at 10 a.m. kind of Saturday. Don't be a pussy about life.
How do I tactfully ask if the neighbors downstairs can hear me beating it?
Just got done fucking the squirter chick. She came when we were in a 69. I now know what it's like to be water boarded.
I need a therapist, but moreover we are going to be really drunk.
Just tell your mom you have to go somewhere half naked with a strange man. She'll understand
if memory serves, the guy you were hooking up with said he was a slutty skittle.
I hat to flip my "days since last bad decision" chart back to zero. So...yeah. Sigh.
I almost got on a bus to Langley Air Force Base. 99% sure that's not where I wanna be.
I'm like a saiyan, every time I get trashed I come back stronger
See and now you're talking. I am like the fairy godmother of hook ups.
Just let me pee on you and I'll leave you alone.
I woke up in his closet, with my shirt inside out and backwards, Rolos in my hand, a tortilla with a face carved into it stuck to the fridge with a magnet, a homemade bong next to the bed, and the door off the hinges... I need a chaperone.
You seem like the type to go to a craft sale baked out of your mind. I like you.
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