our drinking schedule never changed, we just drank at work.
It was like a secret agent hookup. No names, swift execution, get in- get out.
States back in the final four. Now our sunday night drinking has purpose. Sparty on baby.
I just found 17 dollars of saltine crackers in my room. confused incredibly. suprised not at all.
my dad's beating me at drinking again. No matter what i do I can't win.
Should I be alarmed that you're a regular enough at a bar to show up in sweatpants?
Ya,, he does have virgin eyes. Thats a real thing you know...
he kept saying that we were in ian's fun time place and then continued to act like a dinosaur.
Somebody found our where I was and called the bar looking for me. When the bartender called my name I finished my beer and took off like a fugitive.
I got a blowjob dressed with a t shirt sweatpants and a Fanny pack. Not kidding.
we just talked about our morning and what we were doing for the day and he handed me the addies and i took $50 out of my bra in front of a bunch of frat guys. so the mornings going really well
I texted him a series of texts in which the first letters of each text spelled out "WE SHOULD HAVE SEX". If that's not dedication to the dick, I don't know what is
Shout out to my liver for being the true MVP. It easily put in more work than LeBron or Curry this week.
I don't think tits should taste like fish.
It's less than a hour into 2020 and I already want to punch some people in the face
Randomize
