Just think, this time last Cinco de Mayo you were holding me up and finding me passed out in the yard of that house.
He looked at my vag and said "you have a nice situation down there. Good work"
I've decided I'm peeing in a solo cup then throwing it on his windshield. It's official. He called the cops 4 times in our first week at the house. He deserves it, right?
The investigator asked if we were sharing a pitcher of margaritas. I corrected him and explained that we each had our own.
He paid me $20 to swallow a baggie of glitter, which turned out to be the best decision I've ever made. My vomit has never been prettier.
The closest thing to a sext that you will ever receive from me is a picture of pepperonis on Greg's asscheeks, clenching.
It was the best of bangs; it was the worst of bangs.
I watched her follow him out of the bar, chase him around the corner and literally throat punch him. It was awesome.
But I aced my quizzes. Apparently flash card beer pong is an acceptable form of studying.
We watched game of thrones, broke up and I drove away blasting ridin solo while he dougied
I just trimmed my bush to manageable levels. I'm gonna take a nap and then get in there and finish the job.
…wtf were in those pills mom gave me
He wore a t-shirt that had an arrow pointing to his crotch and "DO IT FOR THE VINE" on it.
At least he's honest about how long he'll last.
It smells like grilled cheese and sexual frustration
You have ten minutes starting with this message to get here. Or I'm putting my clothes back on.
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