don't get me wrong, i love how you're fun and free spirited. but there are some situations...like shooting down a bottle of sambuca standing in the shallow end topless surrounded by my friends
I always have to poop after I paint my nails. It never fails.
ride him like a prized pony all the way to orgasm town.
we've coined the Sunday morning ritual of taking out our puke-filled trash cans as The Trash Of Shame
Last time I went to flagstaff I threw up in my beard. I would very much like to recreate that moment.
We legitimately thought something was wrong with you until someone pointed out you were just doing the thriller dance
Have u seen my thong? Last time i saw it was drenched in vodka and on his brothers broken lamp.
Nah but tell him his boxers made it to the basement
when was she peeing in the stairwell? why dont i remember this?
....because generally we only remember 40% of the night each, and have to fill eachother in. And that still leaves 20% that we will never know and its probably for the best
sorry to break it to you, but he's definitely fucking that other girl now...
I wish I still at least had the bruises on my ass to remember him by.
There was a group of girls next to us. One was smiling at me. I only remember walking up and saying "oh you're Russian". Not sure where it went from there
True enough. Do you ever think that these girls grandparents ghosts are watching you masterbate to their granddaughters and look at you in Shame?
He pulled out a red and green condom and then started humming "Here Comes Santa Claus." Happy holidays indeed.
I love you but this is the first Saturday I have ever spent at the police station. And where are my boxers?
the gnome is staring at me and the pineapple is wearing shorts. I don't want to do this anymore.
Whose house did we sneak into and play beer pong for 4 hours at last night?
I honestly have no idea
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