waking up outside has become so normal, the paper boy knows to set the paper next to me
Well we didn't hook up. Maybe from his girlfriend's point of view, but not mine.
Great. I get laid, Leslie Nielsen dies. I can't have have sex anymore, the film community can't take another loss like this.
I just got a flashback from Saturday night of you helping me wash my feet in the bar's bathroom.
He ripped off his shirt and tried to give me CPR. That damn bong.
The last thing I remember is teaching our waffle house waitress to do the stanky leg and promising the grill cook we would come see him at his other job.
Don't ask me how, but I have a squirrel in my backpack and I don't know what to do with it.
You're an asshole. I don't want your dick as my background. I'll look like I have a thumb fetish.
I rocked my own world, he was just a prop.
I'm super stoned watching the vatican smoke cam. Come over.
They're frat boys at heart and have sickly, dusty, rotting souls.
Oddly enough I feel totally fine now. Clonazapam and red bull the breakfast of champions.
but, alas, I am not the lady in the streets. I'm simply the freak in the sheets.
We were making out and truffle butter was playing in the background. I stopped mid make out session and said, "I'm really sorry but I have to rap Nicki's part."
He finally left. I didn't introduce him to the roommate. The sex is bad. I don't want him to feel welcome
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