i threw up in a trash can last night at kellys irish times. but in a trash can because i'm a lady
He’s a liberal pot smoker and perfect for me. He invented a game where we have to smoke a joint every time you hear a Middle Eastern accent on NPR.
And no, shaving doesn't make it look bigger, either
I feel like I'm back in highscool trying to hide my erections at work
So after the reception we snuck back into the church for drunken hook up. we passed out there and woke up in time for 6am mass still dressed from the wedding. spiritually trashy or classy?
I woke up with a crunchy, pink Pepto streak through my hair, no recollection of the last 6 hours of my night and the feeling that all the hotel's staff knew me on a first name basis.
No one will ever love me with the amount of puke on my hand
There is soup leaking out of my nose nothing in life has prepared me for this moment
I remember three things: you falling down an entire flight of stairs, me stripping out of your Christmas one-sie to do cartwheels in my underwear, and people standing above me saying, "where did that bump on her head come from?"
Also, I was told I kept the antlers on the entire time. I'm deeming last night a success.
You then proceeded to tell me how good of a cook you were and put raw cookie dough in the champagne.
When we asked you how you got there you replied in all seriousness, "rode my legs"
We could have casual sex if you want. But I can't offer a bromance to a woman.
I'm watching Pretty Woman alone and weaving a basket for Fiona. This is my life.
If fixing it is ignoring it, and getting naked. Then yes we fixed it.
the last thing i heard from her was "i wanna get fucked by a stranger" and i haven't seen her since
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