I am good. I dancing. Drinking but dancing fine.
New discovery: doing the Helen Keller is not as attractive as I thought it would be, in reference to the sex noises.
Molly wanted me to tell you, "she hasnt shit on the floor in a while" like she thinks its an accomplishment.
#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
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Her life is proof that being a drunken slut will get you places.
She pulled vodka outta the dryer and told me to drink it
oh you know, the usual stuff. getting kicked out of bars and sleeping in cars.
In light of your oncoming completion of twenty-three years of personhood, I feel a pressing need to blast country-pop phenomenon Taylor Swift's hit single "22" in your general direction until midnight.
Best sex of my life. But I think it's because I like his apartment. Really nice bed sheets. High vaulted ceilings. I wanted to lay there forever.
You're getting old. Was it located in a nice school district for your future offspring?
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Living a little to me does not involve choreographed Michael Jackson songs
Jk probs not coming. Tequila
They say find what you're good at... Evidently that's showing up late for everything, drinking, and eating cheese for me.
Just a reminder- you dropped broccoli in my car and then felt bad for it and named him Henry
I know. I miss henry.
whose shirt was i wearing?
his little sister's
what was she wearing
a feather boa and 6 inch heels
I have been adopted by a clan of drunken skinny dipping tourists.
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