Hey sorry for feelin' up your date. Sadly, this is a mass txt.
I'm so proud of your ability to turn my Charlie horse last night into anal sex.
we flagged you as soon as you tried to put the lime in the microwave to prove it was really a kiwi. again.
I fell asleep at the bar. And the bouncer threw a snowball at my face.
I'm too afraid that I'm 1. Banned or 2. Gonna be noticed by the lady bouncer I punched.
we are blowing up condoms and making balloons and we’re drunk on the floor. You could have come to school here
I'd like to be surprised that there's a picture of someone pouring champagne in my boobs on Instagram, but I can't.
I have words... I can't think of them tho. they keep melting together and forming you and I just want to hump it.
Wearing a shark mask, slugging tequilla, in cowboy boots, and not minding that my spandex is on backwards. What are you up to?
As we have told you before, the first rule of hook-up bingo is we don't talk about hook-up bingo
Care to explain the single rose and the package of "Cowboy Moustaches" I found on the porch?
I wish to strangle
whoa there darth vader
Masturbating during the Olympics and cumming during the national anthem really is everything it's cracked up to be. Just thought you should know.
That moment when a stripper is the one that makes the two of you have to define the status of your relationship...
I made soup. Now I'm having post soup making wine. I had pre soup making wine also.
Randomize
