she was bad bro. like...id rather put my dick in a blender. twice.
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
it went kinda like vodka, childhood memories, screaming/cursing, fist fight, tears, broken shit, passing out. in that order. tis the season.
I feel compelled to tell you that I woke up this morning and found an entire corn on the cob in my purse. Ive decided not to question my drunken behavior anymore, and to just accept it as my lifestyle.
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They're here. One showed up as a slutty Crayola, and I think the other came as The Fat Friend.
I can always tell its time to do laundry when my vibrator doesn't stay covered up in my sock drawer.
i should not be allowed to orgasm that much in one day.
gave him road head on the way to his grandparents house. purposely didn't let him finish, the sexual tension over turkey was indescribable.
I couldn't find the bathroom last night...so I wrapped myself in the curtains and stuck my butt out the window and peed from two stories up. Thank god I don't remember.
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Also, if you all get arrested i'm coming to laugh at you because i don't have the money for bail.
Please tell me I didn't try to make out with a 70 year old Romanian man last night ...
The stripper told Tom to sort his life out
I'm sobbing to NWA
Woke up this morning to a bunch of snapchats of you drunkenly yelling at grasshoppers. Good night?
I need my sock, sombrero, maracas, and I just heard I had a light saber, if thats the case...i want that back too
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