Reach down the front of your pants and feel around for a while. When you find your balls, leave the library and meet me at the bar.
I hope God doesn't listen to everybody on a Saturday night.
i keep seeing random pieces of my outfit all around town.
I know. They started calling me The Incident. The hotel maids, that is.
I just had sex on a bear rug. My life is complete.
I'm about to do the walk of shame in a christmas onesie. What would I do without christmas sweater party season?
Just put your hair in a bun. We're going out to drink, not to impress people.
I feel like delivery guys should know that when you order lunch for one and answer the door wearing sweatpants, there's no need to say "Happy Valentine's Day."
You'd be surprised how many calories hedonism burns.
Vaguely remember? You pushed George and two other fellas out the way to hug me, screamed gandalf before chugging your beer and smashing the bottle on the floor. I lolled.
I didn't get a chance to take any pics but the mental snapshot of her boyfriend calling her directly after we finished was a really special moment I wish I could properly share with you.
Note to self: don't try to shave your legs when sex-sore. You CANT reach, stop trying.
Apparently mid making out I got up and said "I need to figure out my life" went in the bathroom and threw up for two hours.
By the time I realized I was watching a Danish porno with muppets it was already too late
i woke up wearing a life jacket, holding on to a footlong hotdog, and had on a mr. hustle 1995 shirt on
good night
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