So how was he last night?
Five-minute foot-long.
he told me that my best friend was "one the most attractive people he's ever seen" and wondered why he didn't get a blow job
I DON'T CARE LET'S GET DRUNK AND GO. I STRAIGHTENED MY HAIR DO THIS FOR ME.
...oh my god that's like anal suicide
I'm aware. I'm writing the eulogy for my colon as we speak.
This is my transition from small talk texts to booty call texts. Coming over?
Quite the smooth talker. There in 5.
It was all going fine until I had to chug that strawberita bud light. That really ended badly.
An old white couple caught us smoking the foot long. THE LOOK ON THEIR FACES.
I gave him a BJ and he left. Coincidentally that's the name of my memoir.
I'm not breaking up with him because his husky is having puppies.
That moment when you realize the hot british guy named rory you drunkenly made out with at a bar is American, is named Tyler, and has a girlfriend.
Peanut butter and whiskey is not a dinner
I need a conscience and I need it yesterday.
I will most likely miss you the least and fondly remember you as Mr. "I need a minute" but really need 24 hours and 4 extra inches.
Is there something wrong with us? Seriously.
Possibly, but I'd rather not fix it.
You know you're getting old when you pick up hot sorority girls at the bar, and they write down their phone number, and under it 'we're great babysitters!'
Randomize
