I can already tell this is gonna be one of those parties where we sit across the room and text about people.
Note to all middle aged "I totally let myself go after childbirth" frumpy mothers: I do not dress this way for your husbands. Stop looking at me like that. It's not my fault.
He is drunkenly eating my teddy grahms and making little growling noises as he bites the head off of each one.
I got her a Nickelback box set.
Dude i'm seriously thinking about his nipples.
just had Stella and stale goldfish for breakfast under the watchful eyes of an inflatable cactus and 5 llama pinatas. Cinco de mayo success!
I don't care if he was in that porno. He looked like he knew what he was doing.
I think the old lady next to me at the bar just saw your pussy
I can't even masturbate anymore!! That was my last source of cardio!!
I made him an O's fan. One pic of my tits coming out of a Baltimore shirt and it was done.
Things my liver can't take in one weekend. Surprise nights off at work and male strippers. Woke up jaundiced.
I told him about the time I blacked out and shit myself and he still wanted to have sex with me that night. Feeling pretty optimistic about where this fling is going.
He has a bathrroom scale in his room with an alarm attached to it so anything over 150 sets it off and in his drinking stupper he can make a run for it.
So apparently, after 11 beers, 2 pitchers of sangria and 3 rhum & cokes, the idea of popping a load of MD and jumping on the trampoline, in the woods, in my underwear was the best one ever.
Instead of saying hi she asked if she could touch your dick through your ski bib and NOW I understand why you wore it to the bars
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