I mean I can't believe yesterday ended w/ your house getting firebombed. What an unexpected turn of events
CONGRATS VODKA, YOU WON RHIS TIME..
Apparently, we were running around the apartment, singing into pickles, the routinely slapped our passed out friends with them.
My phone now knows what I type and it prompts me with frequently used words. And anytime I use "and" and hit the space key two of the words are "unicorn" and "sausage"
I wouldn't blow him for all the queso in the world.
I'd rather blow that homeless guy who asked me to breast feed him.
Oh my god what did I do. My hands are scraped, there are pickles on the floor, my clothes are wet, and I don't remember how I get here. Thank you.
Yeah. You can ask him out. We're just fuck buddies. My vagina will be sad but your heart can be happy.
I shit myself. Legit. And I burnt my tongue. Unrelated incidents, but related in the sense of general discomfort.
As i was laying there shouting that he dislocated my hip he actually reached his armed around and patted himself on the back
I didn't know whether to laugh at the fact that a dog bit his balls or throw up cause my dad was telling me a story involving his balls.
I just got a lecture from your coked out sister about the monetary value of Dothraki hair braids. Take her home.
So yeah, turns out I enjoy vaguely public group sex. Who knew?
I need a fuck buddy with more available hours
I had fresh baked oatmeal cookies, tacos AND was on deck to give a stellar blow job. You'd think that'd be a win/win/win situation.
I can't believe I haven't fucked an Elvis impersonator yet.
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