on toilet. in drag. drinking coffee vodka. I regret nothing.
She kept saying my hands are a cupcake factory
he somehow instantly knew i was from vermont.
it probably had something to do with chasing your soco with maply syrup.
i was congratulating myself on not falling down the stairs when i walked into the wall. it's like one step forward, two steps into the fucking wall
Pretty sure I can show you the text you sent me stating some interest in my penis entering your mouth if said circumstances were met.
I never want to hear the words unlimited shots for boobs in the same sentence ever again.
stop calling me dude. finger blasting me officially kills you being able to call me dude.
I created a photogrid for every picture he has ever sent me of his penis. Now I can see every angle at one time. THIS IS GREAT.
We haven't even eaten dinner yet and she's already been asked to "take it down a notch" by the groom's mom.
The maid moved your bed and found almost 40 used condoms and wrappers. She just looks at me and says "Dave?"
Also, I cannot stop picturing myself in a bar, 3 years from now ordering soda. Just soda. 30 pounds over weight and wearing a cat sweater. I feel like I'm heading in the wrong direction in life.
I fucking hate tequila. Tequila makes me hate pants.
Frankly, since I met you, I practically exist in a state of constant readiness for sex
and then you proceeded to throw soup at him for calling you a bitch...a CAN of soup...
No I got a fucking mosquito bite on my vagina. Summer is off to a bumpy start.
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