Writing a book: The Evolution of the Douche Bag: From Popped Collars to Ed Hardy Shirts. Doing research now.
Make sure you include chapters on white sunglasses, spray tans, and toxic amounts of hair gel.
I making dinner, so you might want to actually come home tonight.
oh, you finally did the dishes then?
No, bought new ones.
just found out i fit into magnum condums. this is going to be the best weekend ever
I was actually high enough at that point that I was just casually following your glowing footsteps like in Avatar while we ran from the cops.
The vodka told me to go iceskating on my frozen pool. I may have attempted.
In a min. With a stripper at the hospital. Business. Not pleasure.
Lights are FLASHING. This just got REAL. CAPTALIZATION.
Last thing I remember is beer bonging sangria. Dear God.
It's now 8:05 on a Wednesday night and I'm already going home with my bra in my purse.
it went ok. then he slept in a parking lot and took me out for a picnic the next day. boys are confusing.
Who shows up to work two weeks ago still drunk and freshly high on blow and gets a promotion and a raise? This girl. Good at business. Super good at being fucked up.
i have achieved a new state of being which requires no food or water but is sustained only by coffee and pure, unrelenting rage
I imagine it like the scene in Sorceror's Stone, but instead of flying keys, it's flying dicks.
That is a dream.
I love everything about him! His penis, his hair, his tattoos, his penis, his cat, his penis.
Just by hearing the girl outside reciting the info on her fake ID, I know it's gonna be a good night
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