It could have went better. They kicked us out of the casino and I drunkenly whipped her across the face with a fishing pole. Long story.
They ran out of vodka so we started doing Body Doritos.
You were Q-tipping mashed potatoes out of your ear.
I can't find the keys to get out of my front door, there are random socks in my bicycle basket and I can see a plastic handle of cheap vodka sitting on my porch. oh, and my head just broke u with me.
Hurry up. Some creepy guy with a "God is vengeful" flyer is asking where I wanna go most today. I think he's going to chop me into pieces.
They should have to wear some identification that warns you to stay away. Like one of those cones dogs wear to keep them from biting stitches. CONE OF SHAME.
Cute underage boy is in my house.
OH MY GOD. DON'T DO ANYTHING. WHY IS HE IN YOUR HOUSE.
No lie. I was hooking up with a former football player at UT and mid-hookup I yelled "I'M FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY"
My night can be summed up in 3 words: Vodka. Threesomes. Hospital.
He literally said I should watch game of thrones while I was blowing him like is this the conversation you want to be having right now
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
It would be weird sobbing cry sex.
I just googled, "what type of cured meat does my face taste like", and one of the top results was, "The Definitive Guide to Bacon." I couldn't make this up if I tried.
He was more upset that I got into his phone than about getting caught cheating.
A massage should never include spaghetti sauce. shit was fucked up
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