There's a guy at this party taking all the unfinised beers and pouring them into a pitcher so he can drink them tomorrow.
We were walking home when he passed out, we left him. Just got a call from him, hes in a jail in Canada.
I swear, if he gets me a bowling ball for Christmas, I will throw it at him.
24 hours later and my vagina is still tingling. That good.
There is a large, jolly black gentleman in the parking lot of my appartment complex yelling about 5am jelly doughnuts. I want to be where he's at.
Dude. Yeah. This is a game changer. I feel dirty and possibly pregnant and it hasn't happened yet.
I hate it when the guy who runs the chicken and waffles truck is convinced that I run a cult.
that is the opposite of a normal text message.
I am making dinner in lingerie and heels and there is a 75% chance his roommate is going to walk in on this.
Yup. There he is. This conversation is awkward.
It seems that only way I've actually improved myself after 2 years of writing for the school newspaper is that I've mastered the art of descriptive words to improve my sexting skills
The beer shits the day after completing the World Beer Tour at Epcot are just as epic as the tour itself.
it's not that I hate people, I just want to rip most of their faces off.
I woke up with her finger in my vag. Let's just say that I'm one horny inquisitive drunk.
Drinking and decided to streak in the apartment fountain. Canadian goose shit and sharp rocks on the bottom. I sobered up quick. That was a very bad idea.
I think I’ve been affected by his dad mustache. I wanna ride it.
Our sex from this weekend should be engraved into a plaque or commemorated somehow. It was fucking amazing.
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