I'm sorry for everything. i woke up with two citations stapled to my shirt.
I just tipped a bartender in xanax.
It was literally like being eaten out by a dog. That bad.
It's Friday afternoon and I'm drunk. This is how I cope.
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No no don't get confused. We do chemistry homework on Thursdays. We screw on Fridays. Other than that, Words With Friends is our only communication five days a week. We are NOT dating.
But the guy you're fucking should not be within ten pounds of your weight when you're five fucking feet tall and he's 6'2". That's all I'm saying.
Well that's the second time I've broken a lamp during sex this month. Starting to worry I'm some kind of X-man. (this one was a wall sconce and I fully smashed it with my head and it crumbled like it was made of sugar)
mhmm. we know where to go, which places have free bathrooms, how long you can be in one until its sketchy, we have this down to a science. we're like the college sophomore pregaming dream team
He challenged me to a drink off, I couldn't just say no. It was a matter of pride really.
And as he was cursing your name from the bathroom you were ordering yourself another drink on his tab. The poor bastard had no clue you were a pro drunk
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Would you mind pretending to be lesbians just for like three emails?
I'm trying to get fucked by 4 girls here, and you're worried about verb tenses?!
Imma need a double jack on the rocks and a BJowsky from the hot bartender.
Yes I said BJOWSKY. Pronounced "buh jow skii".
'TWAS BUT A GLORIOUS SIGHT. BITCHES.
I can't believe I'm giving you play by plays of this sexting convo. It's like a three way he doesn't know about.
You stared at a Swedish dude for like 5 minutes then asked him "shouldn't you be yelling at dragons"