People kept wishing me happy birthday last night. apparently i was 21st birthday drunk
His apartment number was 69. I had to.
There are beer cans & oyster shells along the side of the road. I belong here
In chronological order you drank, sang, smoked, napped, threw up, cried, laughed, described your pubic area, passed out. You have abused the privilege to use me as your D.D.
You kept apologizing for not offering me some of your Whisky, which you referred to as "Jesus Nectar".
He went down on me while I had rollers in my hair. I've never felt more like a lady.
you passed out while setting up your phones timer to time how long it would take before you to passed out.
I have to have sex on a bidet. I'm not sure what kind, but it's reason #4 for an Italian vacation!
Lesson learned:nothing good comes from an at home wax kit.
You continued to run around saying "free the nipple" while "taste testing" every liquor on the premises.
They pay me enough to pretend to be either helpful, or heterosexual. If they want both I need one hell of a raise.
His idea of a night out is drinking beer in the driveway. He's been on house arrest too long
Turns out end of the world sex is H-O-T, HOoot! I'll be the only progressive lady smiling today
I had to take on your role as drunk idiot....I have no idea how you do it so well and so regularly. That shit is exhausting.
My brothers dog was hit by a car and died. They're really sad about it.
But they're having a baby! It's like a dog only 40 billion times worse!
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