I found the seven page love letter I had written you. I'm sorry i was so obsessed.
Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
i woke up to her playing with my penis. just wiggling it around and around. awkward night? i would say so.
You know your from las vegas when the girl on the stage in the strip club was in my US gov class senior year
I woke up to his little sister feeling me up. I guess it's time to meet the family.
your philanthropy is ruining my sex life.
He had a beer bottle in each of his back pockets and was on rollerblades. All I remember is following him for about 10 minutes
I've only left my bed to pee and eat nutella out of the jar with my fingers
You refused to get in the cab so we rock paper scissored to decide who walked you home and the fat guy was it. So don't blame your poor hook-up choice on me; it was all you.
All I want in life is to get high, take a shower, and him to go down on me. Simultaneously. That's legit my idea of heaven.
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.
i found you in bed eating fish fillets dipped in chocolate pudding
I couldn't find any flowers so I brought her a cat.
He jerked off some dude with a slice of Wonder Bread.
The sports guy?
Yeah. They claimed the bread made it hetero
I once went to target high on hydrocodone. I assure you, they can handle unrespectable.
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