i threw up in a trash can last night at kellys irish times. but in a trash can because i'm a lady
so i told him i still liked him. he laughed
well, your crazy. what did you expect?
we all know badassery is carried on the XX chromosome
I've decided, even as much fun as it sounds, I don't care for his sodomy box.
Am I texting you while being used as a stripper pole by two half-naked women? hint: I am.
I'm not asking you to commit. I'm politely asking your penis to be my friend.
By getting lucky do you mean I get one of your incredible BJs or you not killing me by the end of dinner?
I am sufficiently unimpressed with the options available to my freshly shaved self tonight.
Judging by your snapchat you're totally working on your project and definitely not singing, "The Sign" while shirtless with another man.
We were basically fucking on the dance floor. People kept buying us drinks. It really only encouraged us.
Iron Man just asked me back to his place... Not sure I can handle this. Wish me luck.
My sunday was babysitting three big, drunk, crying Swedes. Unless your day involved four or more giant drunk swedes I don't want to hear about it.
Sitting in my car feasting on the spoils of Taco Bell as Donna Lewis croons "I love you, always forever." A more perfect moment will never exist.
Remember last NYE when after the 9th shot of tequila you went on full crazy mode and made out with the 50 y/o doorkeeper? and he called you the next day?
Stacy was in the bathroom puking, so he peed out the window. We were eight stories up.
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