i don't remember her name, but i don't need it unless we decide to hook up again. but even then, i can get away with not knowing it for a while. it's not like we have actual conversations.
So I had to explain to her that pussy doesn't mean a cat
MRIs the morning after St. Patty's Day was a poor choice.
His fridge was full of blocks of pepperjack cheese, and his pantry was stocked with huge jars of jellybeans. Even if I'd been drunk, I don't think I could've made that up.
bleeding from the face, sitting in a shopping cart and holding a wad of ripped caution tape. what else would i be doing?
I guess she thought her walk of shame would be more dignified if she stole my dog
Well I don't know him that well so I don't think I can give advice. You should make him a cake. Or have sex with him.
Well call me tomorrow, it's a great story that may lead to me being fired and/or possibly being buried in a shallow grave somewhere out in wine country.
I just burped jalapeños and cum. That was the most disgusting thing ever.
I forgot that I thought it would be a good idea to hairspray my toilet seat last night after I took 12 shots of vodka so when I just went to pee, I stuck to the toilet. Never drinking again.
I have dibs on his crisis of faith.
I'm wearing too many socks to be ok with this.
And my parents said I crawled through the house
I'm making myself the patron saint of bisexuality
still can't believe dude took a personal call while he was balls deep in my mouth.
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