You can't wash away shame.
I can try.
So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
I found him crying and drunk, in my closet holding a picture of Tyler Perry. He managed to say"he's just so many people"
So basically he tried to get out of the car and crawl on the highway with the broken leg because he didn't want to go to the hospital. It was not a good time...then we got pizza though.
I don't care if he's straight, his cock will be in my mouth by midnight. Like a closeted Cinderella.
He left a trail of vomit straight from our dorm to the bathroom. Looks like we have our identities for the rest of the year.
next time we drink: battle shots.
battle shots or battle shits? if its the first, explain. if its the second I think I figured it out.
Dude. I am seriously trying SO hard not to be amused by Honey Boo Boo. But the fact is, she just got a mani pedi with her gay uncle Poodle, and he got a discount because he only has nine toes, and I am ALL IN.
he told me i could have the honorable privilege of being the second girl to have sex with him in his new apartment, what a gentleman.
Zombie crawl summary: 5 of 6 friends successfully laid. friend 6 too drunk to care and making out with a whale (not a costume)
I want to name my colorful bowl Batman. Why? I still have yet to figure it out. But I'm calling it Batman.
You got Broadway Drunk, dude. I haven't heard you sing "Music Of The Night" like that since the last time I was holding you up on the way to the subway at two in the morning.
In the middle of pounding my asshole he stopped and said, "do you want to get breakfast after this?"
if you didn't cry because you couldn't find me and then pee your bed, your wingman status would totally be revoked for leaving me at that party.
Third time this week I've caught co workers dry humping. Quarantine really changes people's priorities.
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