it's 4 am, i'm drinkin beer and re-drywalling my bathroom. this could possibly be a bad idea.
I assumed she put out when I heard her friend call her "dickbutt"
From the crime scene it appears that I attempted to throw up into a candle.
He keeps apologizing for not being able to get hard when he's drunk. We havent even left the club yet.
You had already cockblocked me. The cops were just an assist.
We left at the same time. You got home three hours after I did and said you got your head stuck in a fence. I can't believe you don't remember this.
Can we end it on a good note at least? Can we fuck and then never talk again?
You can identity the picture as me the mistress his wife and him. It's that kinda awkard.
i'd say i'm about at weeping-uncontrollably-in-a-puddle-of-my-own-tears-and-urine level
I'm going to sing sad and lonely Barbra Streisand songs at the top of my lungs if you don't get here soon
I woke up to a shattered My Little Pony garbage pail, a black eye I don't know how I got and no one will look me in the face. Fuck tequila.
I woke up this morning half naked, smelling like an ash tray, with an empty bottle of jack next to me, and now someone named Dora the anal explorer is texting me.
My mind just played a snippet of me asking to be a Joey and trying to climb into your apron pocket...
Me and Jason had to grab your legs and arms and drag you in the house. You kept screaming "leave me for dead"
Note to self: never fuck a Canadian, surprisingly highly disappointing
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