Some guy just delivered flowers to my roommate cause he fell off a roof onto her at a party last night. I think they have a date tomorrow.
I smuggled my gin and tonic out of the bar by shoving the glass in my pocket...mistakes were inevitable.
He referred to his cock as "The cock" like it was third party or something.
I sent her 8 pictures of my dick in a baked potato. Not sure how I thought that would get me laid later.
You haven't had the true md experience until you've had your crotch grabbed by a drunk stripper with a snaggle tooth in front of your coworkers.
It's like I just got slapped in the face with the cock of nostalgia.
I WAS JUST SITTING HERE BEING SNIFFED BY ODD WOMEN FOR A SOLID 5 MINUTES. My face was a twist of utter fear and confusion...
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
I think the saddest part about my sex life is that most of it is pity sex.
Friend as in 'I used to have sex with her' or friend as in 'I still want to have sex with her'?
I felt like a responsible adult. A responsible adult that may or may not end up shitfaced. But not heaving purple puke into a urinal like last time because I'm classy now.
gin. gin. Gin. GIN GIN GINGINFFdJH
Was it you that ate my bacon or do I have to rip my roommate's face off?
I needed to pee, so I climbed out his window
Jesus fuck. I just hit on him in front of the whole fire department. They hit the sirens and told us to get a room. FML. I can never go back to that fire station again...
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