I don't understand why she insists on me walking her to the door. She came over for literally 8 minutes, we had sex, and now I need her to leave. That fake chivalry will change nothing about the situation.
whats up tonight?
Ice cream, wine, and teabags... Not the earl grey kind
Pretty sure she's used to bigger guys. She kept slipping off while on top. like, constantly
A piece of cheeseburger just fell between my tits. Consider this a "wish you were here" postcard.
Since you haven't talked to me since the rancid whipped cream fiasco, I'm going to assume we are no longer hooking up. But I need my handcuffs back. ASAP.
Just keep my face away from hard objects. And by that I do not mean erect penised.... those are totally fine. It's more just things like rocks, table edges, blunt objects, etc so I don't get another concussion.
You mAke me stone. Stone fuck fucking stoned. I'm an stoned you cuz now fucking stoned stoned fucking stoned I stone.
That awful moment when there is no more beer and you find yourself considering tequila and aloe juice.
You know you're in the hamptons when it's 10pm And you kind of want to vomit white wine on rug that costs more than your apartment.
The picture on Facebook I was just tagged in, with the mask, that is the definition of Carmen, my drunk alter ego
She just asked to come over. She's either going to bring one of her dads guns and kill me or we're going to end up having insane lesbian sex.
The last thing I remember about last night was guzzling white zinfandel out of the box and eating cheese. And I was thinking OH YOU FANCY HUHHH
okay, but you can't tell anyone. Every time he instagrams something with the caption "avocado," it means he's booty calling me. Happy?
Me and my liver are not on speaking terms.
I kinda wanna drive through the Gator bar parking lot and seeing if my panties are on they ground, they should be right next to my pride...
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