I thought I drunk dialed Adam last night and left him a voicemail. I just checked my phone. I realize I left a drunk voicemail with my son's teacher.
Good face, no body. And apparently her vagina is related to chewbaca.
Tell me why I go to the dollar store for nail polish remover and a ghetto black dude trys to hit on me in the parking lot, then he gets in line behind me with a dousche bag literally and that is his only purchase.
I threw up red last night... I wanted to pinch myself because it wasn't green.
So for a second i just thought clitoris was a disease.
There are parrots here and they're headbanging to the music. There's also a clown and a pit bull that can jump onto tables. Too high for this shit.
TAing a class of 300 froshies and being so hungover I forgot a bra is my way of making dreams come true.
Good news, I found your other leg warmer. Bad news, I don't know if the pile of puke I found it in was yours.
I whispered "you're doing a great Job" when he was fucking me. Then high fived him.
When I said to give it to me hard and fast, I didn't mean like 15 seconds fast.
That girl definitely just ate a hot dog and stared straight in to my eyes.
Me sprinting out of your house without my bra or shoes is our entire relationship defined in a single moment.
I may or may not be setting up an encounter with a foot fetishist just because I'm curious.
I woke up with a shot glass nestled between my boobs like a baby bird.
My last Google search was 'can an impotent man have sex'. I don't even want to know what I did with that guy.
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