I wanna come home
And do what?
Kiss. Rip clothes off. Repeat.
i threw up in a trash can last night at kellys irish times. but in a trash can because i'm a lady
We had sex on the hood of my car and broke the windshield.
Howd you meet this guy?
I found him next to my pants on sunday morn.
I began mixing captain Morgan and jack daniels and called it captain jack sparrow. I puked. a lot.
These welts and bruises from letting gay boys whip my thighs last night are a clear indication i should lay off the tequila.
I got to the party and found your shoes in a bag of Funyuns. You weren't even there.
Oh my god he's laying on a longboard singing the song from cool runnings.
Have you seen our bachelor? He's MIA. Last seen being led to some hookers by Kanye look-a-like.
When we got home I apparently addressed everyone as 'peasant' since it was my birthday, this followed by me demanding for my "peasants to wash me".
Oh by "being festive" I mean make tacos for dinner.
You are the best. Or certainly adequate for tempering my unholy desires.
That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
I'm getting paid to get fucked up. How much better could this get?
Just an fyi, you also tried to wrangle a peacock last night.
Hey, um, after thinking about it, I decided I really don't want to use applying olive oil to your ass for your fissure as part of foreplay because... well... really? Just read that again.
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