I had another sleeping on concrete incident.
Last night was epic. Hooked up with Emma Watson, found twenty bucks, and then passed out on my floor.
No you didn't. You drank unbelievable amounts of 151, passed out in someone else's bathroom, and we carried you back to your floor. Nice dreams though.
So, halfway through sex he stops and starts crying. He said he's worried god hates him for all his bad decisions...think he meant to imply I was one of them...
I just fucked a rockette. This would have been amazing a week ago.
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I woke up and we were making out. So the good news is that after two years off the market, I haven't lost a step. I'm picking up girls in my sleep now.
I really want to title the album "I want to make sex with your face" but I also want a job someday. Temptations, temptations.
Well besides you comparing him to your dead cat, I'd say it was fine.
I've already reverted to sweat pants. And lonely drinking.
Just got cockblocked by my GF's wedding shower... That's a first. And I have to buy a gift.
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Getting "I couldn't find the front door so I climbed in through window" drunk seems to be a habit of yours
I need to start using my boobs for good instead of weed. Although really they're kind of the same thing
I heard the bride mutter "I should have brought a fucking tranquilizer". I'm not at all surprised that you got banned from the bar afterwards.
No more twerking this week. I think I dislocated a boob.
I had to carry him up the hill while he was wearing nothing but knee high socks and a blue glitter sequin leotard.
Why is this not a picture message?
I rewired his car so that every time he hits the gas the horn and the OnStar turn on every time he hits the brake the panic alarm goes off.
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