His pick-up line from last night: "I bet you cant climb these stairs right now." Needless to say.. it worked.
We took shots in honor of Shark Week.
i cant finish this easy-mac because i need it for a chaser.
He was legit dry humping me to the sportscenter theme song, awkward i think SO.
he kept telling me that god made these magical balloons called condoms
in the past 3 nights i've fucked a millionaire, a drug dealer and a civil engineer... i dont really have a "type" anymore
The salesman looked at me like I was crazy when I explained the need for a headboard that had slats so I could handcuff people to it
Last night in my drunkenness I bought hurricane supplies which included a jug of wine and a bouquet of flowers. Apparently I'm going to woo Irene.
I don't know what's more sad. The fact that I'm genuinely impressed about being sober for a whole 3 days or the fact that I want to get wasted in celebration.
He put on a roller derby documentary. It was either bore myself to death watching that or take off my dress. He was very appreciative.
if the furniture in my bedroom wasn't shape shifting... this would be a different story.
When we got home I apparently addressed everyone as 'peasant' since it was my birthday, this followed by me demanding for my "peasants to wash me".
I just had sex in the footy bunny pajamas my mom bought me for christmas. Tis the season
He's hot....knda sweaty, drunk smells like feet....but he's hung like a whale....so in other words totally your type
I'm not complaining, but why is it that every time I hang out with you I come home with random injuries and random girls?
Randomize
