so heres a good story. about 6 hrs ago i took a bath with bruce blasting. and 6 hrs later i woke up still in my bathtub but in cold water
Rolling one last joint on my Psych textbook before trading it in. I might actually cry.
I woke up to him drunk-t-bagging me, saying "huevos rancheros" were being served for breakfast.
It took him an hour to realize I wasn't this "Sarah" girl, and by then he was already crying and eating pizza rolls.
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So instead of asking me for my number, he asked for my dad's because he wanted to "thank the man that helped create those tits."
I know it basically makes me the worst feminist ever, but I don't want to kill my own spiders. And I will pay my personal spider hit man with sammiches and unlimited , uninhibited access to my vagina.
Seeing Grandma lick chocolate sauce off of the male stripper was definitely not the way I planned to enter the world of legal drinking.
It felt as if we were fucking on a sea of baby feet and morgan freemans face hair
It's like your tits told gravity 'fuck you, I'm fine right here!'
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sometimes it's just necessary to be your own gyno when you're too afraid to tell your mom about your real life
Is it against health code to come into work half drunk and commando?
Must be why he thought choking was foreplay. Like WTF? No.
Maybe it’s too soon to casually tell the boss that I went to Tulsa for some dick last night
So, looks like I managed to leave my bra in the boardroom after all the sex. FML.
I didn't think you were that drunk until you were trying to rub your foot on my vag under the table at the thai place.
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