I mean, he's dancing back and forth between pathetically sad and massively fucking creepy.
and my herpes radar will keep us safe
i am already firmly committed to doing irish carbombs w/ 12 different people, and the st pattys day party doesnt start for another 24 hours. i may die
I have a ginormous moral hangover. Strip club blues.
He kept buying me shots of tequila. I decided to just save myself the half hour of toilet hugging and tell him straight up that I intended on sleeping with him. We got Tacos on the way home with all the money we saved.
i just got on a party bus. i think i left my belly button at the bar.
Where is my rescue team. I keep hiding shit. And I'm trying to give out shots of olive oil
There were 11 girls in that minivan and everyone was either puking, crying, or yelling "we're a total shit show"
oh you know, the usual stuff. getting kicked out of bars and sleeping in cars.
What kind of outfit says I totes want you to take me in the airplane bathroom?
And know that if I ever text "road head?" that it comes from a place of caring and not a place of heartlessness..
All I know is I woke up with his business card in my bra and in my handwriting on the back it says 8 inch.
All his ex-girlfriends are delicate flowers, tho. And I'm like a trash compactor.
I wouldn't worry about it. You know what they say, THICK THIGHS MAKE THE DICK RISE.
Omg cinnamon bun Oreos. Thanks weed
I aimed for bossy but it came out slutty
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