She kept calling me her DD, which I assumed meant designated driver, so I was confused because I don't even have a car. Found out later it means designated dick. It's what her and her friends use as code for the guy they want to hook up with at the end of the night. I feel so used.
it went kinda like vodka, childhood memories, screaming/cursing, fist fight, tears, broken shit, passing out. in that order. tis the season.
You sucked the drug dealers dick for a 20 of coke...?
Nooo, I payed for that. I sucked his dick because I had an urge.
I went back up to the apartment to get her phone and when I came back she was peeing on the sidewalk
It's like playing clue with my own life. I have to piece together what I did, where I was, how I did it, and who I did it to
By the way, thank you for feeding me fries when I was sitting on the floor.
I broke his nose at the bar and he still went home with me.
I definitely did a line of something I don't know with a Pagan biker. I make good decisions.
By the way, playing "guess who I had sex with last night" was a great way to start a Thursday, or any day
Only he would come to a strip club and talk about an internship with Walt Disney during a lap dance.
Simple math equation: Up till 5 a.m. drinking + up at 9 a.m. for nephews birthday party = puking in the pool
Well, she yelled at the stripper that she couldn't lick whipped cream off his nipples because she is lactose intolerant.
He wrote his entire dissertation last night. I can only imagine the frightening amount of headway he would make if he ever did things sober.
All I remember is talking the cops into calling us a cab instead of giving us PIs while trying to wake up your passed-out-on-a-bench ass.
Pillow talk was a high five, this morning she made dinosaur muffins for the house. I love chapel hill
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