why didn't you poke me back
im never drinking mad dog again and i have your belt.
and that's why we call him explosion in my pants. no one remembers his real name.
I'm gonna play a drinking game called "Sarah takes the train"
So I was gonna stay in tonight but the president got me motivated! I will not quit. Bars here I come.
We decided I could make bicurious-jitos or ho-meh-jitos or heteroflexible-jitos. But not homojitos.
He gave me an elaborately handwritten invite (on a bar coaster) back to his place and whispered in my ear 'i have ping pong'. And he said byob. fuck THAT.
In other news, shitting yourself is not an acceptable way to start a Thursday.
My name will be tattooed on his ass by sunday.
Accepting his friend request would be the Facebook equivalent of pity sex.
I kind of really want to call off the engagement but I kind of need his mom's mashed potatoes on thanksgiving so I'm between a rock & a hard place here
I'm not dropping acid and watching game of thrones with you. That just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.
I didn't even respond. Just letting the crazy settle before I calmly fuck his shit up.
He fucked me in one of the back rooms at the club then gave me an altoid. I have mixed feelings about it still.
So anyways, we returned the toilet paper and decided to use the money for taco bell and slurpees instead...
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