I'm pants shitting drunk right now
I tried to pay my bar tab with my gym membership card. Twice.
Had sex with him. My tampon is now in my brain. May need surgery.
Apparently I ran up to the group of cookie-cutter blonde chicks and screamed "Delta Gamma Nuuuuuuu!" really excitedly and tried to hug them and share fake sorority stories with them.
That's the last time we joust in Radio Flyer wagons after margarita night.
Who would have thought google would have HELPED me fail a test...not pass...thank you pacman, thank you google....
She told me about it right after. She said she was scared I would be disappointed. And I was, but I pretended not to be. Which pretty much sums up our relationship.
My biggest accomplishment thus far this summer is having sex 5 weeks after hip surgery.
In your drunken glory you promised me, tongue, 12 naked pics, and 1,800 breakfasts.
I'm more worried that you thought licking a pole on Bourbon street would turn me on
A guy was over-the-skirt fingering me on the dance floor and I stopped him to sensually rap in his ear. So that was my Halloweekend
HE JUST ALLUDED TO FUCKING MY FRESH LOAF OF BREAD
The difference in our lives is summed up perfectly in that you woke up next to a 6'4" guy with an accent and I woke up next to an unwrapped piece of string cheese.
There should be a guide book that probation officers hand out on "how to tell a tinder girl about your ankle monitor before she notices it at the worst possible moment"
I just thought I should tell you that I always know what you are doing. Everywhere. Every time. -Your loving Mother
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