Either these are mashed potatoes in my pants, or I was drunker than I thought.
His housemate was playing a sad violin solo for me on my way out. God I hate musicians.
and his room smelled like strippers, childrens tears, and fear
Resolution for 2011: blow jobs are a privilege, not a right.
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He just texted me asking if I remember pinching his eyelid shut with my eyelash curler.
I wanna get freshman fucked up and do shady things on the last Friday of my youth.
and it seems i've caught your masturbating bug. thanks.
sriracha body shots, that's gonna be a thing
it's like you just said "i want you to suffer"
From now on, you must never doubt my ability to go from drunken rambling lovesick girl to Stepford wife within the course of a few hours.
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After closing we did it on every flat surface in the bar. Best use a coaster if you're coming to happy hour today.
We played table tennis, but used tv remotes taped to our foreheads instead of paddles. Every time your opponent scored you took a shot. I'm the current champion as of last night.
we just smoked for like ten hours and got froyo. not a bad start to the weekend.
Any man who can do squats while fucking you is a man worth keeping.
Leaves on the ground. Coffee in one hand and your man in my other. Lovely fall morning.
The girls said some drunk guy in footie pajamas was asking for me when they opened the doors. I thought we agreed you were gonna stay home and microwave me some bacon.
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