things it involved: vodka, boy parts, possible photos of me on a cell phone. things it did NOT involve last night: my bra, his pants, and sobriety.
terrible decisions. terrible terrible terrible decisions.
who'd you have sex with.
can you explain how you are here for one night and now my kitchen table is in 11 pieces..
Its ok we found him,,, He is in the bathroom trying to write his life story on a roll of toilet paper.
it's like russian roulette but with a penis
I'm just planning on experiencing Disney as adult style as it gets. Drinking bloody mary's at dawn and telling all the kids waiting in lines how badly their future sucks and that Santa isn't real.
Bartenders are not toys. I repeat, bartenders are not toys.
You showed them your nipple for dollars for the jukebox. You were depressed because only one of your songs played. Oh then you twisted your ankle and blamed it on your mad stripper skills.
No shame in my game.
I wanted sex but got Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, instead. Then I had to drive 30 minutes home wet. Worst booty call, ever.
You really could become the cat lady we've always dreamed of.
The walk home lasted longer than the sex. He lives in the flat above the bar.
Blacked-in to me, shirtless, giving myself finger guns in the mirror and rapping "stacks in the club stacks stacks in the club."
Then while I was crying on his shoulder, he got a boner. Soo. I kinda just hopped on.
I think he just shit his pants. Yep he did. That's unfortunate.
they were drunk. and loud. and now they're drunk and quiet. or dead, you never know.
Randomize
