I'm twenty-five. I'm too old to be watching my friend throw up in Chipolte Parking lot.
the only girl from my high schools graduating class coming to our school next year went stag to prom and still has braces...
dibs.
Keep in mind that he's 43, unemployed and living with his parents. There's really not much we could do to make his life worse.
Dude she was 62...with a boob job. And I'm proud to say I made out with that.
She came over and gave me a handy and then just lingered for a day and a half. Worst weekend ever.
You have not lived until you've seen your mother stumble into the house with one shoe on mumbling incoherently about tequila cupcakes.
I was very proud of myself that day. I had an awesome time. I don't care if I negatively impacted others.
This just spotted: a bagpiping Elmo on the street.
Do you count doing $200 of coke off his dick until 6am as a successful rekindling of our relationship or...
I just realized I slept with a guy who used the pickup line "do you have a bandaid? I skinned my knee when I fell for you."
Dude we smoked with a bunch of random stoners in a forest, then group hugged. It was the most magical thing we've ever done.
I haven't had a bra on since I quit my job.
I answered the booty call in my Trophy Wife cutoff and my ex-boyfriends sweatpants with a bottle of jager.
and how was that received?
Also, my guy said they would be around. And i clarified that when I asked him for mushrooms he didn't hear "a mushroom or two" but rather understood I meant "all the mushrooms you can find between now and 4th of July."
An old Grimace plushie came to life and gave me a pretty knife. I'm never doing acid again.
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