Drunk in a bar in Texas. The 24 y/o hottie I am chatting up just called me a male cougar. I am dealing with this whole turning 40 thing juuuust fine.
morning outfit: hottub soaked skirt. no underwear. someone's bandanna worn as a shirt. took me an hour to walk home. this isn't fun anymore.
Trying not to fart in the comp lab is going to take everything i've got.
I smelled my fingers after she left and they smelt like sugar cookies. I want that one again.
Turns out my drunken logic and wordsmithing isn't quite the same as the sober version. I'm pretty sure I made fun of the managers mom at one point
And I can taste the vodka through my ears. Good god.
The cabbie told us to at least pretend we weren't doing coke while he was driving
all I wanna do is swim in an Olympic sized pool of Gatorade and tylenol.
I have never heard someone not give a fuck so poetically in my life. I feel like you should be leading men into battle with a speech like that
Go big or go home. i snuck in two beers in my bra. im here to win.
Thanks for the cold. I shartted and sat through a whole soccer game. James made 3 scores.
She mentions her boyfriend one more time, I'm taking her home and breaking that shit up.
Before we have sex for the first time I would like "eye of the tiger" to be playing to mentally prepare me for what I'm about to endure.
Can't beat it when the local bar sends you off with a loaf of bread on the way out the door.
Fuck my life he IS a stripper, Ive been sleeping with a stripper named Phoenix. damnit, I knew the sex was too good
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