By the grace of god and the ingenuity of Alexander Graham Bell, this text message is made possibe: YOU ARE A WHORE
just woke up face down in my kitchen covered in cheetos. my mom just stepped over me to get to the coffee maker. hello summer
Tonight is one of those "I'm wearing a shirt as a dress" nights because I need to get laid.
I went back up to the apartment to get her phone and when I came back she was peeing on the sidewalk
Note to self: do not take so many shots that you sit on the floor under the bar where nobody can see you, and reach out and grab peoples crotch.
he put $150 on the cabs dash so 9 of us could pile in and ride 3 blocks to the apartment.
don't be alarmed if you come back and i'm passed out drunk and naked cuddling with the franzia.
He just called me juicy booty via text message.
I'm sitting at home, day drinking, while watching crossroads with brittany spears. I'm not the person you should be asking for advice right now.
let's just say if he has a penis and he hypothetically needs to put it somewhere... i would take care of that for him.
I learned something last night. Strippers can be on house arrest?
what compelled you to fill her bra with pudding and freeze it in the first place?
i might remember if i didn't get knocked out with it later that day.
They're fucking on the bed next to me. I took adderall and smoked so there's no fucking help for me.
I just want a boyfriend who will have sex to Disney Pandora.
I've reached the last of the wine in my cup so now I have to sit up in my bed to get it through the crazy straw
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