obviously my correlation between being a pro surfer and being extremely good in bed was 100% wrong.
Jerry just sent me this: IOR GHIT ALL THE BUTTIB. Go get him. Now.
That's why they call him "the cheesegrater".
By the end of the cruise, there was literally nothing in our room he hadn't peed on.
Not enough clothes on. Not enough vagina. Not enough drugs in my body.
Just paid a $5 cover at a bar I stumbled by so I could puke in a toilet and not in public.
The sex I just had was not worth missing a girls night out.
I just woke up and my mouth tastes like I licked the bathroom floor in the last ghetto bar we were in. I'm going to get my mouth checked for chlamydia. Do I see a dentist for that?
Omg. I felt like a crazed animal last night. My lesbian instincts burned a hole in my panties.
I drunkenly called my ex on Skype last night and didn't talk, just smiled real big at him until I fell asleep.
You. Dating a sex offender cop. Life writes itself sometimes.
Yeah. I couldn't figure out why my toes hurt. Apparently, the guy I was dancing with, kept running them over with his wheelchair.
He literally just patted me on the vagina and said goodnight to it.
Tequila is never to blame. We all make good choices under tequila
So woke up naked and found my clothes from last night in my kitchen with a half eaten quesadilla
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