He painted his chest for the game... I just fucked an exclamation point.
I knew it was time to leave Waffle House when you started singing "What's Your Fantasy" to your hash browns.
I got lit on fire and andy went to jail last night. Totally unrelated incidents though.
Everyone is hammered wasted already...young, old, the dying, babies...we got them all
#1 lesson to be learned from mardi gras this year: lock your car doors or some grimy dude like me might just bang in it and use your backseat as a kleenex
He threw up. He never throws up. It was like finding out superman cant fly anymore. I was so sad for him.
But he made me breakfast and understands the fuck sleep fuck sleep necessities
I rode on his Vespa around Florence and fucked him in an empty train. It was like a way sluttier version of Lizzy McGuire
So update from last night: I made friends with a coke dealer, I tore the card scanner off the wall of my dorm, and I passed out on our bathroom counter with my head in the sink.
He ended up buying the equivalent of dinner at a Mexican place, in weed
Dude! We had to write our address on your arm in permanent marker so you wouldn't get lost. You just showed the cabbie your arm and he drove you! Nice guy.
Well you busted in the house and yelled with pride about Uber giving you a ride over with your new bong.
I gave him a blowjob to kill bill. 2 of my favorite things.
Anyways enough about genital fatigue...
Have I told you i love you?
there's no need we are two peas in a naughty pod of fuckery
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