I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
apparently i broke a 100 dollar bill to tip the bartender on a free drink
it's already thursday and i haven't gotten drunk yet...something's not right.
And i generally try not to roofie people when I'm in a committed relationship.
My dealer, who also happens to be a male stripper, just invited me to watch him perform tonight. Boundaries buddy, boundaries.
well apperantly i passed out on the stairs shouting "victory".
I don't know if it was his cologne or his Jesus hair, but he was much more fuckable than last time I saw him.
Now that I think about it, it may have been the 6 pitchers of beer.
It's all good. The CSI guy came and I played the theme song while he in was in our place. The cops even laughed.
Sorry I can't go bowling with you guys. I'm getting daytime dick. That's the best kind.
I slept with someone shorter than me. My vagina weeps.
You fool.
If we accept the love we think we deserve do we also accept the sex we think we deserve?
I'll pick you up. Avoid slightly awkward no-we're-not-dating-but-I'm-still-screwing-your-son-after-2-years parental run-ins.
Also, I want you to know, that not only am I apparently the expert on sexting. Our bishop is consulting me later. So my talents are varied.
i told you i was taking the Metra Train, and you asked what type of drug that was.. so yes i believe you when you say you were fucked up
You were painting for six hours and managed one four foot wall. "The Mellow Handyman" isn't a good business model.
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