I'll be waiting for you under the stairs with peanut butter and tequila ... Don't tell the neighbors
$1 pitcher night should be outlawed.
the beat of "birthday sex" is shockingly similar to my dry heaving rhythm. it's making me nauseous all over again.
and you're not allowed to put a penis in you if it's attached to a 26 year old who works at blockbuster
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Nope, just sitting on the couch, eating an advent calendar, being depressed about the herps.
I want what they have, but in the meantime I have a whole bottle of rum to which I'm quite devoted
There are panties and mini bottles of Fireball in my purse. Except for the broken toe incident, I'd say last night was probably a success.
Hearing them have a conversation is like listening to water buffalo have sex. Awkward and scarring.
Either I think of sex like a man, or all the men in Vegas are women.
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I am going to tweet NASA until they put me into space
Those rocketship riding assholes need the common man
Last thing I remember was a hand in the pants. Then I woke up next to a full beer and a McDouble, which I promptly had for breakfast.
I'd climb him like a horny MILF spider monkey.
By talk things out did he mean have passionate angry sex?
I woke up with my my shoes on and pants half way off and missing 60 dollars. Please please please tell me you saw me last night.
Don't worry about it too much, but I just committed us to possibly raising a kid
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