All I remember is yelling at him to admit he liked Bon Jovi, then accusing him of giving love a bad name.
I'm outside your house...sorry I feel like I don't need formal invites anymore.
You ended at least 6 stories with "and that's why I don't snort coke anymore"
They nicknamed me the gargoyle. Sex with me is getting gargoyled. The last one I fucked yelled "gargoyle me" for dirty talk. I think fucking me is part of their pledging initiation. Somewhat OK with this.
Lets just fuck. We'll decide if it was makeup or breakup sex after.
You may or may not of thrown up on your shoes, and you tried to give me a wet willy in my eye.
The last thing I remember was riding in a grocery cart with two strangers while a cop pushed us
I masturbated to my balding thirty-something co-worker last night. I am a new level of lonely.
It's funny that when I fall down as an adult I'm so much happier no one saw than that I'm not seriously hurt.
I have a tab of a google image search of onion rings open and it is making me so happy.
Vodka and cigarettes aside, my body is a temple.
He took a picture of me to show his boss why he was late...Is that a compliment or not?
Need to find a Santa hat to fit my penis, he deserves to be festive too.
Kelly and I just had sex, and you didn't call or text to interrupt, are you alive? We are both concerned.
I just want to feed you taquitos and play with your boner and live happily ever after
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