Oh no, it isn't official until she poops.
Literally 6000 elephants in my backyard.
I want to tell you about my weekend in person so I can see your look of judgement and disgust.
So the chick throws up over the rail from the 15th floor at the sky bar and I knew I would take her back to my hotel.
I just had a full choir singing the phrase pudding cup in my head. Too. Stoned.
It's like we come as a package. Your slogan should be "be in my family, sleep with my roommate."
My slogan can be "bonding the family together. One dick at a time."
I'm sure me singing - rather loudly - "fuck me in the back seat" last night didn't help either.
There is a pile of hair outside the apartment next door. At least now I know what all that shouting was about last night.
It's been two days. I am still burping up jello. Everything tastes like jello. Everything smells like jello. I am DONE with jello shots.
I just made cupcakes.... Vodka icing. Results in the morning.
New drunken fun fact of last night, after I pushed Sarah and before I started making out with guy #1, I shouted that I'd go to third base on a first date, then threw myself at him
I told her the only thing I had going for me was my huge cock. She said she was willing to overlook my other shortcomings.
My goal in life is to ruin sex for someone. To be so mindblowingly unreal that they can never find anyone like me ever again. So far it's going well.
This wouldn't be the first time my boss has seen me topless
We just started our own DARE program: Drugs are really enjoyable.
Randomize
