I just walked by a ginger with a mullet. I repeat GINGER mullet. So help us God.
So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
I feel like I got hit by a truck made out of Jack Daniels.
I can't leave. She doesn't trust me and my penis being out in the world without supervision.
Just paid a $5 cover at a bar I stumbled by so I could puke in a toilet and not in public.
I can now tell my grandchildren Central Park has really great spots for quickies...
she's like the billy mays of hookups...touch my boobs and i'll throw in this blow job ABSOLUTELY FREE
We had to leave after he was in the middle of the street yelling "Balls of Steeeeeeeeel!!"
He equated my biology degree to a belief in Santa. I wonder if he heard the doors to my vagina clanging shut.
I threw away my jacket instead of washing it, the jungle juice stained me more of shame than red food coloring... i have never been that white girl wasted before...
Saying you need a hooker then asking me to have sex is NOT the way to get laid. Booty call 101.
And on the first day of my adult job, I matched with one of my co workers on tinder...
Captain Morgan does not know self control. Nor does he teach it.
Dude what is wrong with me. I'm like a strong independent woman and shit.
Do not ever look at a picture of an erect ostrich penis. You will regret it.
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