You were running around the house covered in syrup, with shredded down pillow feathers on your body screaming "AFLACK!" at everyone
been sitting in chapter for 25 minutes. drinking last night's franzia out of a XXX vitamin water 10 bottle. recruitment chair has no idea. life is good.
like in an apt above a crackhead. A LEGIT CRACKHEAD. he woke me up every morning this week asking me if I wanted to buy a mini fridge and some CDs. at 5 am. EVERY DAY.
Now go wash the fat girl off your hands.
I found a horn on the street but it's okay I disinfected it with vodka
The cops knocked on our door just to ask us if we were really having a no-pants party.
Gold rum. Strong marijuana. Jabba the Hut in stilettos. Deep thigh bruise. Yes, thal all happened. Sorry dude.
He wrote me poetry. 12 hours after getting my number
trying to figure out what happened last night by looking around the apartment.
naked man under the piano. THE PLOT THICKENS.
How was it playing wingman?
I feel like I was rockys coach watching him get the shit beaten out of him by Apollo creed
I guess I'll just chalk it up as a learning experience and a lot of great sex.
Literally the fucking master of salvaging the possibility of a blow job whilst also crushing somebody's dreams.
Thinking about licking your asshole. And hugs and stuff too I guess.
so idk what that means but now because of me he has a police file as breaking into my apartment and sleeping in my hallway under the carpet
So in hindsight, going through the McDonald's drive thru plastered at 4 a.m. on stolen bikes was a bad idea.
Randomize
