Definitely locked eyes with the stripper who gave me a lapdance last night as she walked by me and into the Ann Taylor Loft in Times Square.
My low point of the night was when my roommate spit out her jello shot and i took it...
just found a shoebox labled "emergency smoking box"... it has a lightbulb, 2 potatoes, a dried up flower, and a button that says "stop drop and roll". what did we do last night?!
I met her tumbling down the stairs chugging Captain Morgan. I'm not sure why she has the better reputation either.
I can't believe I cried over a sausage mcmuffin.
is it possible that there's a used condom holding pennies in my bra? I'm so confused on what happened last night...
On that note if you see a hobo smiling with a pack of cigarettes and an AMP energy drink, that was my good deed for the day
We make out exclusively when we're drunk. That's like a relationship for me, right?
I'm drunk in your building find me and we can have sex.
I sobered up and saw I was with the fat one and you had left laughing with the hot one. You're a terrible wingman, but an excellent manipulator
I caved man... I fucked her so vigorously, desperately trying to correct her wonky eye. My determination was relentless.
You are a terrible person.
I just try to be optimistic...
I drank, I fought, I made my ancestors proud.
And then someone hit me with a pool cue
Urgent. Do not ignore. What does this "=$" shit mean. Quality foreign dick is at stake here
That isn't the worst part. It got a bazillion times more awkward when he read me a poem he wrote about his dead cat.
I now know he's been cheating for a while. I also know HER name, address, phone number, Facebook account, religion and zodiac sign. I feel like I'm earning my restraining order. Point is, never fuck over a librarian.
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