I'm not saying he was bad at sex, but I'm pretty sure I anti-climaxed.
the Monday before Thanksgiving is not a Monday at all. Just Thursday in Monday suit.
There's a guy at this party taking all the unfinised beers and pouring them into a pitcher so he can drink them tomorrow.
there is a baby dancing on the table amidst the smoke of multiple cigarettes. i want to trade lives with that baby.
I had fun this weekend too. According to Web MD, my symptoms say I had a miscarriage.
My summer fucks are coming back to haunt me with a vengeance.
Just got a picture message from my sister of the two of us wearing cowboy hats and pressing our bare asses together. Do you remember enough to explain?
Are you also wondering how we get home after the party bus?
Home?
I just did a Kegel and my back popped. My vagina is a gift to penises everywhere.
i told him I'd let him eat part of a weed cookie out of my cleavage, so he pulled over like a gentleman.
They're frat boys at heart and have sickly, dusty, rotting souls.
I feel like they've probably fucked. Like.. you don't just bring a bitch a Big Mac if you haven't fucked her.
she doesn't even know what year it is. She just stumbles around life with a bottle of rum
Everyone thinks it's an okay idea now until I'm overdoing it on the vodka/clubs, dancing on a table, trying to make out with the groom.
I was doing good, then they gave me free shots
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