Memo to the bitch sitting across from me at Swamp: no one thinks you're classy with your Louis Vuitton and your Burberry scarf when you're dragging on that cig like it was the last cock on earth and you needed cum for sustenance.
god damn woman. you are like the herpes of drunk texting. you never go away.
we turned studying into a drinking game, she drinks when she gets it right, i drink when she gets it wrong. so we'll be out soon
Just write off about 10000+ brain cells and 6 months of your lifespan.
Sounds like a normal friday night
You can't call dibs 8 years later.
In fairness it was pretty good sex, but I still wasn't expecting the mass cheering and applause he got on leaving my tent
I have no idea where I am, where my pants are, there is cheese stuck to my ass.. Why do I have your phone?
shot for shot with some guy twice your age to prove Detroit hustles harder then you left with him. We're tracking you
The whole time we were fucking I kept thinking, "My dad would love this cologne. I'll have to ask him where he got it." the highlight of the night is that I figured out my dad's birthday gift.
You poured your drink on him and called him a "useless cocksucker" because he wouldn't give you a ride home... on his skateboard
you said, 'he held out his hand, that means we don't have to pay' about the taxi driver, and then asked the doorman what happened to your pants...
hitting rock bottom is getting taziki in your hair & simply putting it in a bun instead of actually dealing with it, just like your problems
just blew him in the library. I am a classy dame
I was too hungover to sit up and pull the curtains closed so I did it with my toes
I don't know if I'm more disturbed by the fact that you hooked up with a dude with one arm, or that "hook up with a dude with one arm" was on your bucket list.
Sextember may be over, but Cocktober is just beginning!!!
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