i don't remember her name, but i don't need it unless we decide to hook up again. but even then, i can get away with not knowing it for a while. it's not like we have actual conversations.
I'm still not walking right. We need some boundaries for "drink-or-dare"...
Well, let me tell you, it was the most vivid sex dream I've ever had. More so than the Paris Hilton one I had in 05. And about as weird.
In all seriousness, if tomorrow night becomes a heated game of Which Ex Gets To Take The Plastered Birthday Girl Home, I'm going to bow out with my integrity intact.
You know when you blow me it's the softest, most amazing feeling ever. Like putting my dick in a silk bag filled with puppy ears.
The security guard popped his head over the mens room door and goes "nice tits- now get out." Deer in headlights moment right there.
i think the title to my autobiography shall be, "a bottle of vodka and various pieces of meat"
and this is why you're my favorite gay friend.
She just lifted up her dress, screamed "This is gonna be a good one!" And pissed on the pole...
Sangria Sundays can't keep happening. Even my second grade students know I'm hungover. Benji even gave me his oreos its that bad
I feel very compelled to cut off the person's ears that is sitting in front of me
No one understands the complete and utter debilitating 3 day bday bender.
His roommate walked in then asked "well did you at least finish". What a way to start your birthday
You tried to use him as a battering ram. I'm 99% certain that's why he left.
Leaving the puke on the ceiling as a reminder.
it was like reliving my childhood drunk at a bar.
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