I puked off the balcony.
Not horrible
Into the hottub. There were six people in it. I had eaten all their pizza.
No way. Our relationship is based solely on texting and sex. A phone call would be too much at this point.
So that'd what fifty dollars of chicken at 7/11 looks like. Made it to work on time. Puked twice. BOOM.
You blackout rapped the entire DMX song Party Up last night at karaoke without looking at the screen. Then you Tebowed on stage, hugged a black guy, puked in a garbage can, then left. You deserve a medal.
I can taunt you with whatever I want. Like batman and sex.
You know, having a conversation evolve from attractive men to roommate orgies would be weird with anyone else, but you get me.
He came on my pillow pet. That's unacceptable. I hate boys.
On another note I am sitting in my bed naked, buzzed, and working on a notecard for my 8:00am test tomorrow. I think I need to make better choices.
I ask for a dick pic and he sends a picture of Dick Cheney. Who does that?
Have you ever had a pregnancy test laugh at you?
If I stopped mid-sex because the guy was hung like a light switch, it doesn't count, does it? Like the five second rule.
When we found you, you were half crying/half singing Taylor swift songs at 2am in the bathroom, and occasionally puking. I think I get "friend of the year" award just for putting up with your drunk ass all night.
You're so sweet in the most vulgar ways
thank you for being so understanding of my weak stomach and poor self-control
I can't take 'get a man' advice from you. You'll stick your penis in a warm banana peel.
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