my dad just encouraged me to do a kegstand
Laughlin, where retired strippers come to die.
you have to choose: penises or morals?
I don't want to eat him, he probably tastes terrible.
I'm sober in pajamas at a bar. Nothing is ok about that statement.
Boxed wine mondays was one of our finer ideas
At one point I went looking for you and found you handcuffed to a chair. I'm pretty sure you handcuffed yourself. I don't know how you got there.
$100 bras are my way of telling my boobs that I love and appreciate them, and all the metaphorical doors they have opened for me.
I got laughed at by a homeless guy in a Daniel Boone hat. I have no clue what this means for my day
I really need to create fewer "the time I was on drugs" stories for my future memoir, "my first year in San Francisco".
good luck with that
I don't think I will ever be as happy about anything as this man next to me on the bus eating Taco Bell.
At what point can I admit that I hate going to house parties?
I don't wanna stand in your shitty kitchen making small talk while I guard the quality booze I brought.
I left him naked in his bed. I did cover his junk with a blanket in case his roommate walked in later though. so I don't feel as bad about it.
her nickname was handjob. I knew what i was getting into.
i got drunk and started dancing with the plant because you were out of town
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