So I'm at the Chevron by your house. I need a condom and a couch.
Together?
Preferably.
I ate a lot of your sunchips. I mean a lot. Like 4 to 5 bags.
Just ran into my ex in the WOMENS bathroom. He said I did this to him. Swore he never wore my clothes but said he liked my skirt. I need vodka.
I don't want her to kill herself before she gets over me, getting mentioned in a suicide note isn't very fly.
but it's kind of a high honor.
They are baked and once again have spent the last 45 mins talking about opening up a world wide business called "pickle on a stick"
just heard a glass bottle fall in lecture and my first thought was to yell party foul.....is it friday yet?
Not till Sunday. I'm going to sleep in my car. And I know. This place is insane. Blood on the stAirs 5 dollar slices of pizza. A girl on our floor had a stroke.
Casually brushing the Bacardi out of my hair. It's a good time to ponder regretting everything that happened last night.
You climbed on top of the bar, shotgunned a 25oz fosters and screamed, Steve Irwin was a God amongst men.
She curled up in the corner, screamed "THE BLANKET IS SO WARM" and promptly passed out with her face in the dogbed. No one bothered to reposition her.
Awwww breaks my heart, I just wanna fix his teeth and give him a blowjob.
I think I was judged by a squirrel this morning during the walk...
Lol, perhaps. But the drinks are so cheap, the music is better, and the bartenders and bouncers all know my name. I can't abandon it, even if it is a gay bar, its still my Nirvana.
I sure hope so...I wonder if he could tell in that email that I'm really good at blow jobs. Hopefully he heard that tone. Any means necessary.
Eventually the conversation shifted (as it always does) to Sex toys.
Randomize
