so as we were driving to pick up my grandma from old navy she procedes to yell into our open window.. "I'll make ya holla fo a dolla" umm...
He called me a "functional alcoholic" like its a bad thing.
You should ask if we are margaritasing tomorrow. and yes i did just turn that into a verb
He texted me for drugs this time. Not sex. I dunno if I should be pleased it's not sex or disappointed that I come across as a druggie
I have no idea what to do about this. He has a power over me and I think its called his tongue.
His flight is delayed. Mother Nature is delaying me from sex.
I know I don't have feelings for him because I feel completely ashamed every time after we have sex
we told you you couldn't get your dick sucked because you were a girl and you yelled at us and said we were 'discriminating you'
The more I drank he just got hotter and hotter. And then the mustache didn't look too bad
So how do I get back in good graces for trying to trade you for superbowl tickets?
Nothing says "single girl" quite like Pinot Grigio and canned ravioli at 11:30 pm....
It's like sleep walking but with blowjobs
Maybe I'm not hungover. Maybe I'm actually dying.
what do you mean he's functionally heterosexual
well, i found him passed out on a picnic table two miles away with a lit cig in his hand...he had a rough night
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