The girl I brought home was really impressed with the pile of blow you were doing while watching "Intervention."
alone in the kitchen at 4 am eating a hotdog.
just survived the first fart of the relationship.
you called me at 4 in the morning to tell me that your toaster burnt your english muffin, and that you "fuckin hated that thing."
did she really think she could get into the club & no one would recognize her from 16 & pregnant???
I still don't understand how I went from crying to blowing you in like two minutes.
In order of importance: Where am I? Where's my car? Where are my clothes? Who is this chick in the room?
Anne's couch, the bar, your car, Anne.
Apparently I took one a huge picture off the wall at the bar and was walking around dancing with it..
Found her with a stray dog now called champagne, crying about how she feels a mom now. Had to take her home. The dog too.
I can always tell I missed tequila night based on the hickeys on your neck man. Fucking call me.
Touche. Dude, I fastened garters. Drunk. I deserve a medal from a drag queen.
N.C. cops just used a megaphone to tell me I have a slutty outfit. My life is complete.
I can already tell, the amount of fun I'm having right now is not nearly going to compensate for the amount of "let us never speak of this again" I'm gonna have tomorrow
Went to night shots with Kayla... she punched this guy and I got his friends number. Not sure if she's the best or worst wingman ever.
last night you said that you wanted to hold my dick as you slept because it was like having a stuffed animal.
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