I texted him about a book we both like. I was expecting a "ya great book... let's bone" response. It didn't work
I think east. Tornado watch. What the fuck are you doing in Texarkana?
Bonnaroo. Tornado watch? Expand on that thought.
Watch for tornadoes.
Sweet. Might not hurt to poop on the floor anyway.
Boobs. All I remember is boobs.
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god damn woman. you are like the herpes of drunk texting. you never go away.
Just puked on the beach. Hungover. In front of my parents. I love summer.
I'm not a creep or anything, just a lost soul looking for a good lay
and then the entire party sang the national anthem a capella around the keg.
He added me on Facebook. I'm pretty sure he got my name from the inside of the bra I had lost in the frat house.
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I'll come out for a little. I can't be visibly hungover at work again or I get written up and fired. And yes, I am aware of how alcoholic that sounds.
I think that was him coming out to me. I just brushed it off
The goal for tonight is vagina. In and around. Doesn't matter who. How. Or why.
You gotta buy me dinner first. Or smoke me out. Both are equally chivalrous
I got asked to "be the filling in a man sandwich." You don't get to pick the club again. EVER.
Typically a man doesn't buy a woman a drink in hopes of her laughing at his penis, but no one said I was normal.
Randomize