I just tipped a bartender in xanax.
two words: fractured penis. two more: emergency room.
Everything smells like syrup. But I guess that's better than last time when everything smelled like beer.
I should hang a sign above my bed that says "get hard or go home."
Sorry about last night..I didnt realize how drunk you were and when I closed the door it caused you to slam into the mirror...you'll probably piece together the puzzle when you read this and see your hand.
It ended with me crying and eating pizza in my closet.
If for any reason you were wondering if i was going to vomit at the airport today, the answer is yes.
My lab manual has instructions for making home wine. Room project?
There are too many people and smells in this elevator for my hangover to handle.
Of dear god, I've been waiting to have rug burn like this since I got bored of my vibrator 2 months ago
I would feel worse for you if you weren't waking up between a pair of double Fs that attached to a classically trained chief. Im still jacking off eating hot pockets.
Turns out the bartender I fucked is the bar owner. WHY THE FUCK DO I PAY FOR HALF MY DRINKS? IS SEX NOT TIP ENOUGH?
He told me that after two hours of fucking he feels as though his dick wants to detach from his body and go to Mexico..
Is there a nice, calm way of telling your friend/housemate/former lover/person who does not reciprocate your feelings that your period is late?
i'm not sure what you are doing right now, but i know that i don't like it. whatever you are doing. just stop. come here so we can fuck
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