I feel like your standards for women is like rent-a-centers standards for credit.
Yet again my drunken self has managed to find his way into the middle of nowhere with no shoes or recollection of what happened last night.
Then I guess you don't remember me driving you there after you tried making out with my girlfriend, dipshit.
you got so mad from losing a game of beerpong that you went into another room by yourself and practiced for an hour and a half.
Well, according to foursquare I checked in "@under the bushes" at 3:27am. This could explain some things.
At least drunk you showered before switching sex partners last night.
His IQ is so high, I swear I started ovulating when he told me the number.
Right... Let's keep my vodka tinged mind focused on simple words
i can't believe he threw up on you. Well thats what you get for being DD. I used the sombreros as a shield!
He didn't get laid that weekend.. and that is honestly an accomplishment for the rest of us.
Does Jesus have blonde highlights? Pretty sure I saw him in a lavender shirt and Sperry's.
Killing two birds with one stone tonight: mastrabation meditation. Win win.
My v day was great. There's a cum stain in the shape of a handprint on my sheets
I'm not complaining, but why is it that every time I hang out with you I come home with random injuries and random girls?
Fuck. I did it again. I plugged in my toaster and walked away thinking it needed to preheat. I am dumb.
I'll talk to you in a minute. Gotta put my peacocks away
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