I solve my problems like an adult, at the strip club drinking on a work night.
I realized that I earned the name Classy cassie as i was throwing up vodka slushie in my bed with a guy I know by the name extacy boy
we need to stop having unprotected sex.
ya i know. we're like the secret life of the american whores.
Well, technically I had a shirt on, it was just around my waist.
He sent me a picture of him bent over showing his asshole with the caption "vwahla".... No more tequila for either of you
I woke up in nothing but a shower cap and your sparkling coke straw snorter thing inbetween my toes. Explain.
Nope. If I'm going to drive an hour to fuck a teacher, it will NOT be missionary thats for damn sure.
This conversation has now reached a level of awkward that even a passerby streaking hobo couldn't break.
True friends don't judge, they just try to have more booty calls than you do.
Whatever. That's why I am to be babied like a calf. I regret nothing.
You're telling me he never had to ask for a blow job and he STILL broke up with you? I call bullshit on that one.
Yeah, the email that I was sending to get an Escort for the weekend, copied and pasted to my boss, that should be interesting conversation, when I come back from Christmas vacation break.
You made me take a photo of you under the stairs at the bar. "Look I'm Harry Potter."
I think my teeth are moving, they feel like people.
Just taxi'd to the airport holding a zip lock bag of my own vomit. Bachelorette success.
Randomize
