So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
You're boyfriend is farting in his sleep. The last one sounded like a threat.
i feel like pocahontas...the disney character not from real chance of love
But guess what. I'm gonna roll over and go to sleep cuz there's no cuddling in phone sex.
She said i saw her in the study room, waved, disappeared, came back with a coke from god knows where, and slurred "i have a drinking problem but i ate grits"
No. My vagina is not the scapegoat for your poor decisions.
There's a Russian guy here. In the bar. Drinking vodka. Wearing a trench coat and a hat and a mustache. Idk where the confusion is.
She's currently upstairs fucking her boyfriend while I am downstairs making them a sex playlist watching her boyfriend's Weiner dog and large Boxer try and mount each other. Marvin Gaye is playing. This is the ultimate third wheel fail.
We finally have the house to ourselves and your out playing Lance Fucking Armstrong
Dear god how many nuts did u bust in me my vagina feels like a bowl of jello.
Apparently I have decided there are no repercussions for my actions
I thought we agreed to no sexting at the school bake sale...
I need you to sex the hangover out of me again.
I was just seen throwin up on the bookstore building near a trashcan by parents. Naturally I throw a thumbs up and say go college
Can we skype so I'm not drinking alone?
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