Hey sorry for feelin' up your date. Sadly, this is a mass txt.
4 words: hood of his car
remind me not to puke in the mesh trash can tonight
Last night was epic. Hooked up with Emma Watson, found twenty bucks, and then passed out on my floor.
No you didn't. You drank unbelievable amounts of 151, passed out in someone else's bathroom, and we carried you back to your floor. Nice dreams though.
I don't remember much but I know I looked hot.
2pm: Breaking news alert: I think I'm finally sober. Oh, and that place needs hotter strippers.
I need a leash, or some shame. Maybe.
Dude, it's the frankincense and myrrh soap. Smelling like baby Jesus will get you laid.
All I want in life is to get high, take a shower, and him to go down on me. Simultaneously. That's legit my idea of heaven.
She bent over while grinding on me on the dance floor and her thong straps were hanging out, I thought it was a good idea to grab the straps with both hands and pretend to be riding in Santa's sleigh...not my brightest moment.
We just fucked like crazy and now I'm dipping chips in macaroni & cheese. I feel completely accomplished. This may be the best day ever.
You were yelling at the mannequin and saying "DON'T LOOK AT ME"
he's 22 and listens to dad music. if i hear one more modest mouse song i'll never blow him again
His junk had piercings everywhere. The dick and balls. It was a fucking pirate penis.
Turns out naked twister is less fun than it sounds. I can never look Lee in the eye again. But Aimee's boobs are glorious.
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