I looked him in the face and asked if we could stop. he asked why. I said "I can't feel it.". ...I feel bad; I should have faked.
24 hours later and my vagina is still tingling. That good.
Dont even bother asking why she was dancing with him on top of a door, let alone how the door ended up being used as a table.
I'm having a staring contest with a raccoon.
Where the hell are you
He's winning.
I just threw up in the bathroom next to the zebra exhibit. The kids don't know I skipped a beat. Best nanny, ever.
It's my first ever "i'm sorry for my excessive drug use" hand turkey. And I think it's pretty boss.
I masterbate to the thought of you. You totally aren't just a booty call.
Sorry for rubbing my feet on you and repeating "good pony, stay."
You forgot your "boyfriend" from last night on my couch. You're suppose to bring that shit with you.
My mouth feels like it's at the dentist but my body feels like it's at the strip club.
So my flight takes off at 8am. Does this mean I need to break my airport bar pre-flight ritual?
Aren't you the one who taught me that airports are the judgement-free drinking zone?
Talked to the dude for a hour . I now know where he lives, his occupation, his goals, his dreams and what his dick looks like.
WHERE THE FUCK IS MY ARM DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DIFFICULT IS IS TO TYPE WITH ONE HAND
I think I’ve been affected by his dad mustache. I wanna ride it.
I've been getting a lot of emails from patron lately for being a great customer. Is that awesome, or should I start thinking about seeking help?
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