Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
I totes stole your whore crown.
With great power comes great responsibility.
She offered to make me a fruit roll up salad for breakfast...I'm not sure if that's the coolest or weirdest thing ever...
twelve hours since my last beer and i just blew a .08, time to go to the library
It's been over a month and I still can't find the bra I wore out on new years eve.
Her dress is practically falling off. It must know I'm here.
I feel uncockblockable...banged her in the bathroom with my iv still in
Ifound a recepit for a hotel room in my sock. soo.. Ithink thats where my dog is.
I'm reciting my presentation (beer in hand) on the porch to a snowmen audience.
She asked if you knew her boyfriend, and you responded that you "think you gave him head once" and then hiccupped.
Well I pulled a muscle in my leg dancing in the tanning booth drunk at 1 pm soooo there's that
I just spent 20 mins in the shower washing n rewashing my body to get rid of stripper. I even loofa'd my face.
I accidentally called my professor daddy...and I think he liked it. Help, I'm scared.
His encouragement of my recreational drug use is the backbone of our nonrelationship. That, and rough animal sex and loud music.
I think the reason she hasn't text me back is because I spanked her ass with Hulk Hands
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