shit is crazy. i just keep thinking that this kid growing inside Emily used to live in my balls.
Cant decide who was more of a mess the morning after... me when i passed out in the bathroom stall or you when you sprayed yourself down with hairspray thinking it was sunblock
I think one day, after evolution kicks in, my sons will thank me for having a 3rd ball. That's how much sex I'm having.
Guy next to me is looking up how to press his own ecstasy pills. I'm going to befriend him and see where this goes
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Did I send you an asleep facebook message about the upcoming football season titled 'BRILLIANT' at 4:45 this morning?
He was going down on me as I discovered a spaghetti-O on my boob. Its been a while since I faked it.
I tried telling the cop that I don't do drugs, and that if he'd just take me home I could prove it by showing him my D.A.R.E. certificate.
It was like the titanic mixed with those sad puppy commercials mixed with jello shots
I wouldn't blow him for all the queso in the world.
I'd rather blow that homeless guy who asked me to breast feed him.
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I really need to create fewer "the time I was on drugs" stories for my future memoir, "my first year in San Francisco".
good luck with that
Imagine getting a FB inbox "hey I found your ID on the floor of a bar can you send me a mugshot so I can get a second piece of ID made?"
I just compared his sexting to a plate of spaghetti. And he STILL wants to sleep with me.
I found out his moms name, maiden name, profession, and office location, his dads name and profession, his home phone, picture of their house, all of his work profiles, and the cost of their house. All I'm trying to do is find his damn twitter
and then you two started interpretive dancing to Mozart
Then he said,"I love you like a sister I like to have sex with."