just woke up to a 10 min voicemail of you singing "99 red ballons".... you need to work on your german..
i just identified you from a description of your pipe
I don't hate you. My dick is upset with you, but I don't hate you.
he let me wear his jacket and there was a magnum and a bowl in his pocket ... I think im in love
he wrote me a grocery list while i was passed out. every other item was gin. it went on for 4 pages.
I feel like I need to get rid of the black eyeliner, glitter, and tequila breath before I to that world poverty conference..
Thursday nights need to stop happening to me.
On an unrelated note, i found out who duct taped shoelaces to my face
Whoever was the last to get in from the chinese firedrill had to pay the dealer.
It was like an alcohol war zone and you left a soldier behind.
you did a full monologue with your sober self last night. different voices and everything.
Russell brand is gross. Everytime I see him I just wanna give him a bath. He's like a used condom.
This reminds me of the time I was given a lap dance by a David Bowie drag king...
I'm 22 and I'm drinking hawaiian punch from a sippy cup. Everything is right in the world.
I think my dick has healed enough that we can start having sex again
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