I just came to the conclusion that the most depressing part of my day is when I have to put clothes on.
Just woke up. First thing I see: Little brother eating last night's jello shots thinking they're reg jello.
Just gave my little brother the collection of clothes that boys have left in my room since I've been in college for his birthday.
it was like having sex with a tree stump
you handled that situation with as much grace as someone puking involuntarily could
I told him "thank you for wearing a turtleneck yesterday, I no longer have a strong erg to have sex with you. " He is no longer speaking to me.
I just dumped bong water and Bacardi out of my purse into the trash can. Everything in my purse is soaked. I hate Sundays.
All I am going to say is this: I woke up with lots of bruises on my knees from running around on all fours being a 'dinosaur'. Either girls night in went terribly wrong or terribly right.
Ya. My thumbs are those buffalo's, but my legs are spirits and my torso is that Indian guys and my head is the eagle
I ended up at home with a random bird sculpture and flowers
Captain Morgan does not know self control. Nor does he teach it.
In 18 months of being married we've had sex with 7 different couples. Who said you can't have your cake and eat it.
I wish I was there so i could bitch slap his incredibly sexy face
So I FINALLY get to start out a story, "So there I was, naked except for a toboggan hat and handcuffs..."
Howd last night go?
well he stumbled in my parents door drunk and then asked my mom if she was my grandma. Id say as far as first impressions go, he failed miserably
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