If you want her to think you're a true humanitarian, you may want to stop referring to Hands Across America as "the Ghostbusters 2 of fund raisers."
I just puked in the mop bucket at work. I think I need to go home.
you didnt remember my name all night. you kept referring to me as "the blonde with the fat ass"
Pass out mid-funnel last night.
Its what jesus would do if there were bud light in his time. I feel obligated.
please come home... she's showing me videos of spanish parrots and is telling me about her dead cousin...
Remember how I haven't seen my step sister in like 7 years? Pretty sure I just made out with her...
First of all, I don't like eggnog. Second of all too much rum is all bad. And thirdly I'm not there to sit in your lap and pretend you are Santa and I've been a bad girl.
I still think the kiddie pool full of jello option is worth exploring. Just sayin'.
Imagine getting a FB inbox "hey I found your ID on the floor of a bar can you send me a mugshot so I can get a second piece of ID made?"
It started as ''I want a romantic life right now'' text. It ended with pool table sex.
Her instagram is literally selfies, cats, and guys she's fucked.
We had sex in the church bell tower and somehow it still feels right.
Should I be scared that after we hooked up she took antibiotics with Sailor Jerry's?!
If you find me in the bathroom in a fetal position, licking frozen bacon .. I might have Drank a little too much.
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