Every time I hang out with your gay friend, I have to make a checklist of words to look up when I get home. First Google of the night? "Power bottom."
I climb out of my sunroof. I mean its kind of embarrassing but part of me feels awesome and ninja like.
I seriously need to stop naming my lingerie sets after the boys I wear them for. I seriously just asked mom if she put Brett in the dryer
I have a ginormous moral hangover. Strip club blues.
You make shower sex sound like waterboarding
No, that was the night I was sneezing out barf
I'm gunna send you baby bottles of vodka for those nights when you just give up
Jesus Christ that hit just spoke to so many levels of my soul. It's caressing them softly
I can't tell if I have the Pizza Hut shits or beer shits
We smoked with this guy who looked just like Hyde from that 70's show in an alley. It was a divine moment in my life.
I put the area codes from ludacris' "area codes" into our expensive data visualization software at work, it's been a productive day
I offer naked tickle fights and orgasms and you call it trouble. I call that Christmas.
He just jumped up off the couch, screamed "ITS OVER NINE THOUSAND!" And then attempted to fly out the window like a bird. I don't know nor do I care to know what just happened
While strippers were eating ones out of my boobs, several sources claimed trump shared classified info with the russians. We should get hammered on Mondays more often, bitch.
I'm texting you know although you won't get this until you wake up. the only reason you are strapped to your bed is because you were trying to fly out your window.
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