We found an eightball on the ground last night. I mean, really, who does that?
I think taking a nice shit is a lot more satisfying than an orgasm. This is probably why I'm single.
Sorry if I ruined your sex last night with my constant text updates about the plot of Bolt.
His shopping cart was nothing but malt liquor and zucchini.
We're having the conversation about what happened last night, all we can come up with is that we came home, drank two litres of lemonade, I took one of her seizure pills and we fell asleep with sabrina the teenage witch on
Level of drunkenness: just now when I sat down on the toilet, I had to double check to make sure I wasn't sitting on somebody's lap.
I have to have sex with him again. I feel like I need to train him so no other girl experiences that bad of sex.
Aaaaand I just watched him face plant in front of the taxi. This is why we don't invite him to margarita night.
You called me 32 times last night just to tell me you felt a heartbeat in your vagina?
Yeah I don't even know dude. This shit has reached new levels of ridiculous. Let's hope baby Jesus gallops down a rainbow on a sparkling unicorn and wills that bitch clean. I think that's the best chance we've got.
Like real life can suck my metaphorical dick right now.
Munching saltines, sippin Gatorade, and trying not to get eaten by this small horse
Should we make a shared Google doc list of places we want to fuck? Like a scavenger hunt?
We went to the midnight donut shop and you hopped the counter and told everyone to "Get the Fuck out of your Bar" but to also "Make yourselves at home".
I broke my dick don't ask me how I need help putting in a catheter so I can piss.
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