I'm jammin out to some Brit Birt, she's still my bitch, I love her crazy ass
Then we all started singing, "Our house, in the middle of the street. Our house, fucks a lot of freshman meat". It was magical.
Good news.. I found out what I did Saturday night. Bad news... I found out what I did Saturday night.
Hung over. Bed full of legos for some reason. Not getting up. Come build stuff with me.
He just texted me from the outside of the hospital. He called the fat broad in the bar mrs snuffleupagus about 60 times and she broke a bottle of blackberry brandy over his head.
It's almost like a boob-text, but it's not. Because it was live. And you were showing a bunch of people.
I feel like I shouldn't have to explain to you why giving your cat weed was a bad idea.
He wouldn't let me leave his house until he made me orgasm once for every year I've been alive. The birthday sex song did not prepare me for this.
Can you come pick me up and take me to breakfast then the police station?
Where's your car?
The girl I brought home apparently stole it
At this point all my Tinder matches are telling me I'll be fucking the whole male population of UMass '17.
he bit THROUGH my nipple
plus side, no need to pay for a piercing.
Did this whole conversation happen while you were shitting?
Doug the spinning teacher gave me chlyamdia
You know when your cat drags a dead bird into the the house as a present and drops it at your feet looking all pleased because it thinks you'll be pleased? That's what sex with him was like.
After this weekend, all I can think about is bald eagles flying in front of fireworks and giving birth to fucking uncle sam. Also, beer.
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