Well for starters i'm drinking vodka out of a bell pepper.
He never called back after I emailed him my booty call contract.
Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
this is like black Friday for my dealer. I'm literally standing in line.
we walked in to her beating him with a broom while he was trying to sweep ramen into a box. there were packing peanuts everywhere.
Just hooked up with the fireman who put out the quesadilla fiasco last tuesday.
It was awful. Mid hookup he started reading the titles of the books over my bed, which were about Russian imperial history. He then started asking me questions about the class I was reading the books for. I was like "WE HAVE TIME FOR THAT LATER, PLEASE CONTINUE."
the liver wants what the liver wants
I ran into his family and they made me a ham sandwich and I asked if they wanted to come streaking. I felt they deserved the invite.
Can I even tell you how badly I want a day that is just on and off napping and sex with intermittent snack breaks? Because I want that day very badly.
I have never seen a more amazing text message in my entire life.
You also once spent an entire hour explaining the origin of the strip steak to me.
Well, he asked what my sign was, then proceeded to critique me on my beer pong stance... I really need to raise my standards.
Less adorably, the dog stared me down, yelping, while I gave him a morning blowie.
HAVE BEEN SPEAKING IN RUSSIAN ACCENT FOR 5 HOURS
SHIRT GONE
Okay, maybe filling water balloons with vodka was not our best idea.
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