I'm the only one here who isn't hooking up, coming out of the closet, or crying because of one of those 2 things.
I hate nights where "I found my underwear" can be considered a victory.
I think we need to stop being best friends, its not good for our vaginas.
Im pretty sure he just said he wants to make a baby with me, but he's pretty shitfaced, so I'm not sure if he knows who I am.
He broke into my apartment to check his Facebook again, the beer is all gone, and there's a new high score on pac man.
She's still too new to the group to be comfortable with us just sitting down as a group and watching porn on the tv.
I'm thinking about wearing a strap-on just to freak him out the next time he pulls my pants off.
While looking for socks, I found my mothers sex toy box. Dear god I finally understand where my kinkiness comes from.
Ran out of plates, so I'm using my sociology notes. Looks like they will finally have a practical use.
Well supposedly when the cops came, they say I tried to get them in a conga line like Jim Carrey in The Mask. So....yea
I'm sure as hell not getting hoodwinked into going back to rehab again
i can't hookup with him because someone else bit my vagina
all I remember the next morning was crawling through the doggy door and finding my underwear in my purse
I'm completely creeped out. He's dressed as me. And thinks it's funny.
Every time I see this chick she's swimming naked at a pool party. That's gotta mean something right?
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