I knew it was time to leave Waffle House when you started singing "What's Your Fantasy" to your hash browns.
I don't not like him. It's just wierd talking to him because we both know I fucked his wife.
I'm never waking up next to someone after sex again. It's alllll downhill from there.
At least she'll always have a story about the time she showed up to the emergency room drunk and covered in chocolate syrup on her birthday.
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Cute underage boy is in my house.
OH MY GOD. DON'T DO ANYTHING. WHY IS HE IN YOUR HOUSE.
Its summer. Time to get to the freshmen before the weight does.
These welts and bruises from letting gay boys whip my thighs last night are a clear indication i should lay off the tequila.
Just puke out the sadness. Like a fuckin dragon.
hahaha every time i hear a motorcycle i think about that one time you almost died
Thanks for the flashbacks you prick.
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Any story that involves the words "bloody hand job" and/or "sliced penis" is bound to be a good one, right?
Well according to all the calls, texts, and Facebook messages, I threw up on you guys last night.
Drinking from the bottle. In bed. Making dinosaur noises. Oh man.
I just want to sit in my tub, drugged out of my mind, and watch the green lantern cartoon while the world as we know it ceases to exist outside my bathroom door, Okay? Is that REALLY too much to ask?
How good was the sex? She sent me a fruit basket the next day.
Dude, running 15 min late.
Let's play a game, you pay for all the drinks I can finish before you get here. Go.
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