im 80% sure the guy across from me is taking pictures of my legs
if you made me into a cookie and threw me into a betty crocker easy bake oven on christmas morning...that's how baked i am
he said i was the most charming throwing up drunk person hes ever taken care of. so of course i had sex with him.
He started to lose his balance halfway through his "commencement speech" at the top of the staircase. The rest is bloody, profanity-laiden history.
The last thing I remember is ordering two Martinis while yelling 'CAN YOU PUT THAT IN ONE GLASS?'
He puked, did more shots, and then pissed in a drawer. We thought it was bad enough and all of a sudden...boom-clothes come off and he passes out with slippers and a styrofoam hat on and a guitar hero guitar in hand pretending he was slash.
She told me my pubes were as soft as "fine wool"
P.s. remind me to tell you about the porno that Paul envisioned starring you. It's wizard of oz themed.
I'm at his house right now making him pancakes to compensate for YOU not giving him a handjob last night. You're welcome.
I've now spilled wine and got poptarts all over my cast. So much for my doc taking me seriously...
My knees are skinned from sitting on someone's face on concrete
Where does drinking Flat, warm beer from two days ago rank of the No Fucks Given scale?
yeah, i'm probably gonna die. still gonna be totally worth it tho
I just want to trace his tattoos with my tongue
I'm getting drunk off Malibu and watching Drag Race and it's only 2 in the afternoon. I'm the poster child for sad gay men.
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