he asked me to marry him on one of those scrolling message belt buckels.... what now?
I just googled maps his house, and took the virtual tour back to my apartment, just so I could visualize the walk of shame in the morning
sticking your finger down your throat to make yourself throw up is bulimia, not morning sickness, so no, I don't think you're pregnant.
By connection do you mean me drunkenly grinding my ass on his lap for an extended period of time? If so, then yes, we had a "connection"
You passed out across the stairs with your feet and arms through the railings so you "wouldn't fall down when you blacked out and no one could get the pizza past you without waking you up". \n\nYou're the smartest drunk I know.
I blacked out after the shots of canned lobster bisque.
I'm sexting at the thanksgiving dinner table...this is a new holiday tradition.
Why would you fall asleep? This is why i cant drink with my lesbian friends anymore. They take my clothes off and get vodka in my top ramen. Only yoouuu can prevent forest fires.
Ive never seen one person more proud of themselves of peeing in public and getting away with it.
MY MOM IS GOING TO SMOKE WITH ME.
SHE'S GOING TO SMOKE HIGH QUALITY MARIJUANA WITH ME.
I fingered myself to realization that I don't need birth control if there is never a guy.
I'm 10 cats away from completing my post divorce transformation.
Basically I think I'm replacing men/sex with theme parks.
My booty call made my bed while I was in the shower. I may have to marry him.
You've been inside me, dude. There's no such thing as TMI.
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