I caught a rooster roaming Edison Park then released it in the bar. They made me try to catch it again and somebody played the chicken dance while I chased it
I have now hooked up with 8 of the Apostles. I have no idea where I'm going to find a guy named Bartholomew.
I tipped the hot bartender my entire wallet. Again.
Seriously, I'm ready to settle for ugly and unemployed as long as he has decent hygene and likes to go down.
$100 bras are my way of telling my boobs that I love and appreciate them, and all the metaphorical doors they have opened for me.
I puked in a solo cup and then offered it to him. So yeah, it was a rough night.
Have you ever stopped and thought "I do NOT want to be inside of this person right now. Or ever." Because you should.
I really shouldn't be this use to hearing "YOURE THAT GIRL?!?!"
I wore a bird inflatable and still got laid. So there's that.
He'll only communicate through snapchat with pictures of him holding his cat or his dick. Bit of Russian roulette opening them in public but I did it anyway.
You're such a good friend. You send me pictures of your boobs when I'm sad. I will always appreciate that.
You also spilled beer on my dog and tried to wipe it off with a paper towel but he kept getting away from you.
I met his parents. We played twister. My boob popped out.
At one point I was counting his nipple hairs to calm myself down.
You know you're drunk when you have to be picked up out of a bathtub.
Randomize
