Confirm your location. A cross street is best, but if google mapping yourself is your least-shameful option go for it. ps- going through his mail for an actual address is always an option.
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
My life is like a Sweet Valley High book but with lots of alcohol.
I'm sitting in class drinking a forty out of a paper bag. No ones said anything yet. I think my professor is trying to ignore me. Better start yelling louder.
And there I was, sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, my fingers covered in peanut butter.
I think if I set up a series of baby gates up the stairs each one more difficult to undo then the last that should be able to stop your drunk vagina.
Technically my penis started a fight tonight
The sad thing is; I'm getting used to walking around feeling like I could hurl at any minute.
As soon as he came we went to Dairy Queen. That drive through lady was very condescending about our "just fucked" ice cream.
Not gonna lie: had to look up how to spell fellatio. Not sure I spelled it right even now. Looks like a Shakespearean character. ENTER FELLATIO, SOLILOQUIZING.
I just found out that there's a bar that has happy hour at 12 pm. It's like the universe doesn't want me to be sober
We were walking to the bar with a group of people and literally made 4 stops in people's lawns garages or random walls for him to eat me out
If dispatch calls for us tell them I'm having a significant emotional event in the restroom
fucked one of the teachers, librarian job's going great
Apologies that our conversations always turn to butt sex or penis size. I thought we out grew that in our 20's.
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