i'm smoking hookah in a kayak. how did this happen.
isnt it sad that we can reminisce about our childhood but we cant remember shit we did last month
He was such a tease, he pulled out his dick, let me touch it then put it away
don't let me wipe my vag with a dirty leaf outside of mcdonalds ever again.
you can't tell me you didn't shit your pants I saw them in the trash can by the bathroom.
I was drunk petting a fox and taking shots of Jager. That's about as outdoorsy as it gets.
Drink for every country you've never heard of.
Fuuuuuuuuuck
I'm offering you baseball tickets and my vagina, isn't that enough?
I'm going to text my booty call and tell him nevermind, that I got the job finished by myself. That will teach him to text back faster.
This lesson is brought you by a psychology class.
My mind's like "He's a sexist pig" but my uterus is like "YOU SHALL BEAR HIM STRONG CHILDREN"
Also there's so much vodka on my breath that if I blew on my fingers my nail polish would fall right off
He can't say no, it's my spiritual goddamn quest.
He tripped and fell all the way to the ground and then stood right back with out spilling a drop of his 3/4 full glass of rum and coke. It was like watching something from the matrix
It doesn't matter how nice the shirt you wore to the bar was, you still shouldn't have worn it to a job interview
I refuse to shit my pants for anyone except Cher and Christina Aguilera!
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