To answer your question of whether I "went back," tits just informed me I was kicked out for falling off my barstool and passing out on the floor...
My brother and I both agreed that your boobs are fake.
Margaritas ran out of lime juice. Substituted Jaeger. Jaegerita not good.
So I'm at planned parenthood and there are 5 people here from Friday's party.
Boys can't fool me. I know "want to come up and meet my dogs?" is just a nondirect way of saying "come up and meet my penis".
He's having sex with his gf again. Every thump of his bed against the wall is insulting to our one night stand.
What was the name of the cook I had sex with at Famous Dave's?
So if you ever need to know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy that can put a 24oz beer can up his ass... Hit me up...
I actually don't know if I can stand up. I just know better than to try
At a party. It smells like teen pregnancy and sadness in here.
I send him pictures of my tits whenever I feel like he's paying too much attention to his girlfriend.
I took her to the bar and boom. All of my past slump busters were there. Shes cool enough to know what that means and said she was afraid they'd eat her so we left.
Also, can next Friday be Long Underwear Friday instead of Jockstrap Friday? Because I'm about to cough up a testicle.
It's hard not to feel like a terrible person with bruises on your tits.
Just renamed the subject of my sex list on my phone "grocery list" just in case anyone comes across it
Randomize
