Well its official I'm an idiot. I made out hardcore with an employee last night in our banquet room. Oh and got wasted at work. Oh and showed my staff squirrel on a trampoline.
It's just my hair. It brings natural happiness. Like goldfish, big boobs, and milkshakes.
The moral of the story is do not hire me because everything will end up smelling like pickles and I will not sufficiently clean it up.
I vaguely remember making out with his tattoo (?) and giving him an awesome massage and then I passed out on his floor. Shrug
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i should probably stop thinking with my vagina, and start using that $70, 000 education i can't afford. what the fuck.
when I said energy drinks I meant cocaine
I told him to pick up the beer can he threw in front of the police station. So he gets out chugs whatever's left and throws it back and says ok let's go.
hooking up with him was much more fun when i knew in the back of mind we'd get in some sort of trouble for it
I wore heels to a golf store in hopes of getting laid. I've hit a new all time low.
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Also, I wish we had magnetic nipple rings and our boobs stuck together.
the only things my left hand does: catch/hold things and masturbation.
If you wake up with half a an eyebrow.... I'm pretty sure it was a good time.
I'm not going out, it's sweat pants and gallon vodka night at my place and I'm the only one on the guest list.
This is because you lost at fooseball isn't it?
When we get drunk one of us ends up running off and fucking someone in an inappropriate place, like the roof of the restaurant, or Greece, while the other convinces people not to worry and not to go looking. That good sir is a real mother fucking friendship.
Thats what I'm talking about
There were no words. I got in his car, took my pants off, threw my shirt out the window, and got things started. After we were done I collected my clothes, gave him a kiss, and crept back into my house.
You're like the sex ninja. How doesn't he love you?!
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