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.
I'm someone's dream girl. I'm hungover in this guy's bed wearing ONLY a Brian Westbrook jersey. Not the same I was on a date with last night.
So...i'm having a drinking contest, my right hand vs my left, i have a feeling the 24 pack is gonna win
Within 5 minutes of max walking in his pants were off and he was wearing my snow goggles as underwear.
Just sit in your kitchen floor until something speaks to you.
You were crying and asking his mom "why doesn't he like road head?"
like teasing for 28 minutes, then the very last 2 minutes is where is ALL goes down. I'm talking, rings off, stable sitting position, hand job madness.
rigging a system to keep my jello shots cold in class. important election day work.
You're invited to our X-games themed party. We have an ice luge and every time someone eats shit we drink. It's gonna be great.
So I've discovered that being hungover at 25 feels the same as being hungover at 24. Happy Birthday to me.
I totally just pulled my thong out of my purse at the grocery store. Oops.
At least your road beer policy is responsible. Well, relatively speaking.
I'm like bob the builder except I'm fixing boners.
I will find, mount, and marry that person.
Why in the hell is there a guy dressed up as a horse passed out in our kitchen.
happy birthday!
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