So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
she is medically diagnosed as a nympho. she has the paper to prove it. hell. fucking. yeah.
Okay, good. And if you have one of those portable strip poles that would be nice too.
my favorite part of the night was when I was in the bathroom frantically trying to get my cat whiskers and nose off to make hooking up less awkward
I was preparing to do my walk of shame shirtless, but then I found my sweater, wallet and keys neatly piled under a tree in the park.
I have six drafts of messages to you that just say "blood" and I have no idea where they came from.
You expect me to find someone in two days who I feel comfortable enough with to ask them to get drunk and go play in foam with me?
You were definitely doing something right. You could only see the colored parts of his eyes a couple of times. I was pretty sure he was dead at some point.
Good news! I don't have Hep C! Better news! I still hate you!
just texted my dealer that i could taste the blue but not the cheese. i said i could taste blue.
Is the mullet a good, great, or horrible idea before we leave for college
The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that I'm the solution to all of T-Swift's guy problems.
To this day, I regret not having sex in the bathroom
I have need of you to return home with haste, as I require the magical capsules you possess to relieve the posterior pain I am living. I battle this demon with stubborn grit, however I feel that defeat is on the horizon.
so we have roughly decided that hes the dude all the chicks will bang in college, just so he will do their term papers
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