somehow in between the body shots the bong hits and trying to convince the 7-11 lady to let me fill up my vodka bottle with cherry slurpee. i misplaced my car.
So, I woke up to an empty bottle of scotch and a dead car. The last thing I remember are the strippers being mad at me. Awesome night.
Feels good to be wearing underwear again though...
Dude, this old lady messaged me on Facebook talking about her grandson and wanted to know shit about me. I'd almost call her a cougar except she looks like mashed potatoes that have come alive.
You don't understand, Single Ladies is like the Don't Stop Believing of the gay community.
I'm pretty sure we've had sex a bunch more times than we've hugged. So hugs are weird when they happen.
I wouldn't necessarily say I'm in her pants...I'd say I'm more on the on ramp to the freeway to the long way to her pants. There really isn't a short cut.
all I remember is repeatedly winking at the fire marshall while he was counting the people in the bar
Its 6:30 and I'm shotguning a busch ice while taking a shit. Outlook for work today: interesting
I found his retainer in my ass crack. It smells like shame.
I want to sit on top of her nipple mountains and reenact the Ricola commercial.
He is more interested in finding his sweater than he is in having sex with me. It better be a great fucking sweater.
Come share oat with me in your robe
Idk you're asking me for advice on dating bro, after I told you I got a convicts number today.
I learned a valuable lesson about combining day drinking with malt liquor: you may think you have super powers, but that's just the Steel Reserve talking.
Pooping to opera.
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