You're the 8th person from last night to text me this morning and ask if I'm ok.
Classy. Drunk on alcoholic "energy drink" at work before 8 am on a Tuesday. Between that and hanging out in bars with no pants on, your life is beginning to sound like a Bukowski novel.
On my way home I stopped at target and bought beer and galoshes. I am a planner.
Just pulled back my covers. Jizz. Jizz everywhere. Hipster jizz everywhere on my only set of sheets.
Maybe you shouldn't go to cosmic bowling, i don't know if cum glows and I don't wanna find out i'm sure his parents don't either.
I think I might be drunk enough to cut my own hair
Went to an open-bar law school party and puked in front of Justice Scalia. My legal career is now complete -- I literally got judged by a U.S. Supreme Court Justice. Can't get any higher than that.
Next time we include dessert condiments into our sex life we can fuck up my sheets. It's only fair.
Directions to your booty call: go down the part of Route 66 that has all the car dealerships, motels and bad decisions, go past the Christian college and turn left at the Children's Center.
When you glanced over and and mouthed "I'll take the fat chick" I knew it was going to be an epic Sunday night.
Going back to the ever classy sneak out to the fridge and swig liquor from the bottle method. That it is legal for me to drink here makes the fact that I have to do this all the more depressing.
I basically gave Miranda rights to the guy I hooked up with, jus so we were all clear what was happening
In her defense, she didn't know I had a twin brother. Plus, we're even: I banged her sister.
I let him stay at my place since i had to work early and when i got home there was a fruit snack wrapper in my bed. I dont have any fruit snacks. Which means he brought his own fruit snacks to the fuck session.
only 3 drinks in and he showed me his fursuit, please come pick me up
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