She didn't know my name but she knew I was Canadian so she just called me Canada. It sounded like the national anthem when we were fucking.
That drug basically just makes anything that's in your mouth awesome
if we break up, blackout me is coming back, making out with everything in sight
did you know that if you have sex in the elevator on the way up that people can still get in?
It's sad that your definition of adulthood entails banging your boss after getting hammered at happy hour, and putting the tab on the company credit card.
Until you wake up with a Hustler club stripper in the next room whose nipple you were coerced to lick at Snake & Jake's after breaking up a fight between an Indian and a Filipino, I don't wanna hear about your weird.
Casually brushing the Bacardi out of my hair. It's a good time to ponder regretting everything that happened last night.
Dude I am allergic to the candy dicks from that sex shop in Vegas. Come take me to hospital right now.
I showed him my toy collection and he goes, "You won't need those anymore," and dropped his pants. I threw the House of Pleasure out last night.
HOLY FUCK I almost floated out of the city. Thank god my dog kept me down.
The moral of the story is this:the last shot of the night is always a mistake
There's a dryer on fire at the laundromat, and everyone's just standing around taking pictures. Except me. I'm texting.
I sprayed his whole room with my perfume and left lots of my hair on the bed. So now if he does bring her home, the bitch will know this territory is marked.
He was cute in a Sketchy-trying-to-sell-you-a-vaccum-at-9-at-night kinda way.
He tried to throw up into a beer bottle. It was a complete disaster. Vomit went everywhere. It put the Bellagio's fountain to shame.
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