I just ate a cockroach and I want to be a fire truck.
I wouldn't call it sex. It's like when you put a plug in a socket half way. It's not all the way in but it still turns on the light.
I just want one of her status not to be about Jesus.
Two bottles of champagne and half a pizza later, I'm crying myself to tears watching The Nanny. Happy finals week.
I have the money I owe you for auctioning off your black thongs. Best 30 bucks ever spent
The magic cards should have been the first clue. The comments that I have "amazing birthing hips" and that I'm "beautiful in a child bearing sort of way just sealed his fate.
Two words. Shotgunning Cognac.
This has already gotten way out of hand
Also he wants to know a casual, consise way to ask a girl in a bar if he could eat her out. Think on that.
I don't know if I want to live in a world where i can't fuck an exes brother.
Every time I walk onto campus my Saint Patrick's day scar starts to throb. I'm like a drunken accident prone Harry Potter
So here's my pathetic thought of the day: what does it smell like to be sober?
Does it get any better than dating a guy with a vasectomy? The answer is NO. No it does not
Lest it die in the depths of eternal drunken recall denial...we peed in the street. Middle of the street. Simultaneously. Peed. Street. Middle of street.
I feel like my entire body is ashamed of me today
You're a god amongst men today
He stopped the gas pump at 69 and gave me my receipt. He wants it.
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