Tis a story best told in person, it involves a golf course, police and vomit
It usually does with you
Judging by the crutches in the living room I take it you two are fine and we aren't going out tonight?
I'm fucked up. I can't drink anymore. We stole a cat.
told our landlord the hole in the wall was from your head during drunk sex..
how did he take it?
not as well as i would have thought
i just want to attach a dildo to the ceiling and ride it like a gay spiderman.
I may have to steal the boat sober, but I feel that would be harder to explain.
do you know how hard it is to bring up the "what do I do if you conk out while we're fucking" conversation while maintaining the dignity of.the narcaleptic girl you just met?
You kept screaming, "Fuck her right in the personality" and then kissed a guy and slapped him across the face
Just please don't close your legs while I'm down there again. I don't want my death to be labeled as "Head crushed while giving an individual cunnilingus".
If there was a category for "most likely to end up a serial killer" in your high school yearbook then I'm sure you would have won it
Fuck me I smell like cheese
I'd like to thank Vicodin for getting me through family thanksgiving once again.
I woke up to find I still had sequins under my tits. I'd say Sunday was a success.
I'm sorry, but the bed has won this battle. I got up, changed my shirt, combed my hair, put on some deodorant, and then looked at my bed and got back in
A massage should never include spaghetti sauce. shit was fucked up
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