It's just you. You wear the fuck me fedora and wear baller shorts, hollywood hippie who thinks she is shakira when she's drunk.
he just referred to himself as the billy mays of his frat.. heres how to order
this is a mass text: i just made a grilled cheese with an iron and pasta with the coffeemaker in the hotel room. bow before your new god.
her orgasm sounded like a fucking walrus crying.
you just can't say no to drugs on a mirrored table.
You were dancing on the bar and fell off into the arms of the hot bartender. It was like a fairy tale, with more alcohol.
Just walk-of-shame'd past fifteen little girls at summer camp. Take a good look girls, I am you in twelve years.
At least I wasn't still dressed as a bottle of dom perignon when they took me to the ER
What can I say? When alcohol is my motivation, I can move mountains.
Too lazy to make dinner. Had chocolate and scotch instead. Check in with me in a half hour.
I confess. I just downed the bottle of saki. And I'm singing phantom of the opera to the dogs. Be glad you're not here for the high notes.
AND HOLY SHIT FLUBBER IS ON NETFLIX
I thought since you asked to see my dick I might as well say hi
I don't trust my subconscious. It sleeps with my exboyfriend sometimes.
It’s awful. They need to open the bars. I’m now trolling grocery stores looking for dick
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