I need like a "Cookong High for Idiots" book. Or a car.
found my necklace. it was safe with all 6 boxes of peeps that i bought that night.
It's almost like he dry humped the last remaining bit of good person out of me.
A zombie called me motorboat central while participating in an auction to motorboat my tits. he then proceeded to propose, insisting that he makes alot money.
It was a karaoke bar combined with a liquor store and had a donkey pen in the back.
Keeping it classy as usual I see
We can just keep having sex until one of us finds someone we actually like
U can find me on my couch hungover eatin tuna evaluating my life
His dick is hereby named Charles Dickens. Will's is less cerebral. I'd like to call it Pinnacle like the vodka we drank when we hooked up, but I feel like that's a compliment it doesn't deserve.
Meanwhile I'm working a fucking flute workshop and I'm one high c away from shoving a flute up the asshole of the next passerby
maybe if I avoid him long enough we could skip the talking part of "we need to talk"
I mean I'm not saying I have my life together but I did just put nerds in a bottle of champagne and then drank from the bottle
My one regret (beside the inevitable shit storm that followed) is that now I can't fuck his cute friend.
You told the bartender at least five times that you were naming your son "Jagermeister" but you would use the bartender's name "Fernando" as his middle name. You were drunk.
Please don't finger me like a jackhammer. I'm a woman not a construction site.
I am now banned from the bar... Because you got head from my ex in the woman's restroom
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