somehow on my way home with matt, I ended up straddling steve on the sidewalk and polling the people walking by on whether or not we should have sex.
I want you to know that after i type the word "your" vagina is next on my predictive tex
No vaginas are yucky and I don't think you're old enough to handle one yet
sober me hid the cigs from drunk me. sober me is a tricky bitch.
I've really got to stop smuggling half full bottles of beer out of bars in my purse.
I just want you to sit on my face and to tell you you're pretty. Most girls would leap at this opportunity.
Priorities: waking up on your doorstep desperately clutching half a meatball marinara but with no sign of your keys, purse or housemate. Where are you?!
The hot guy sitting next to me in the lib is reading a book called "Impersonal sex in public places." How wrong would it be to give him my number when I bounce?
I should work for the FBI. Or planned parenthood.
That's quite a broad spectrum. What did you do?
No, we got so into acting out our role play characters we didn't even fuck. still sucess.
OH AND DAN PET MY CAT WHILE I WAS GIVING HIM HEAD
You should just skip the small talk from now on and instead say something like "You need to come slay the dragon, be here in 15?"
He said he would get me a helmet and bedazzle it with my name and address so the cabs would know where to take me
Reminder to self: never have sex on a trampoline. Trampoline burn hurts worse than carpet burn.
My nipples are raw, I've yet to go to bed, I feel like death, and I'm at work. Thank you jack, crown, and Lafayette!
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