So I just used shazaam to figure out a pairs figure skating song. I don't think I could get any gayer.
He referred to his cock as "The cock" like it was third party or something.
I told the bartender that he could give me back the tip I gave him if he outsmarted me in a battle of wits. He has yet to challenge me.
They reenacted the scene from the lion king where mufasa talked to simba from the clouds. As high as they were they got it word for word. There has to be an award for that.
Every time you started making out for him we all cheered for you... that's what sorority sisters do - they cheer you on when you make bad life decisions at the bar.
Apprently after I bit that bouncer, it all went down hill.
You were so drunk, you called my cruise control, the "auto pilot" and asked my car politely to take us to Taco Bell.
Why is there uncooked bacon under my bed?
You insisted on taking it to bed with you. You grabbed it out of the fridge while mumbling "If I leave this out, you fuckers are just going to ruin it."
In light of your oncoming completion of twenty-three years of personhood, I feel a pressing need to blast country-pop phenomenon Taylor Swift's hit single "22" in your general direction until midnight.
My sheer presence has sent the hipsters running in terror. I expect no problems.
I knew it was Christmas when someone handed me a stocking filled with airplane bottles. Ps just woke up 3 days later
I just watched my mom pour beer into her vodka and drink it.
I have just received a gold-medal-deserving sext. He wrote me a fucking novel. Not only am I incredibly turned on but I am beyond impressed. He is the sext god. I must bow to him.
I want to be her friend more than I want to fuck her boyfriend.
I need mimosas to revive my soul
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