well, it ended with me crying outside the strip club saying i don't want to be 21 anymoree. i'd say it was a great 21st birthday.
Considering the last guy I had sex with was gay, this was a huge improvement.
She kept looking at me and saying "you are the scary high".
No need to call an exterminator, the ants overdosed on the leftover lines on the counter.
I whipped my shit out and she just stared at it with a mean face. It was like a face off in a heavyweight boxing fight.
you stuck pieces of bread to your face with peanut butter and asked if it looked like you had a facial yeast infection.
ohhhh that's why they asked me to leave...
Half way through sex he whispered in my ear, " your the second best I've ever had" then proceeded to tell me to sit on his face.
don't care how drunk i am. my dick was like "nope, not doing it, you can't make me and i was like oh yes i can"
It gave me the St Patrick's Day nickname Slutty McShitfaced. I've never felt so understood.
Asking me to suck on my nipples isn't going to make me less mad at you.
I might go bald with this hair pulling thing every night.
If I could I'd magically teleport drugs and alcohol to you. Like a bad decision fairy.
Such a shame we didn't work out. We would've been a power couple producing NFL linemen :/
Played Gay Bar on the jukebox and pissed off the Republicans here. Best day before birthday ever.
Getting a smaller wine glass hasn’t changed the amount I drink—it just means I get more steps each day. Cheers to health!
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