I got a call from 999 999 9999. I didn't answer it because I was too busy freaking out about the number.
It was probably Jesus.
I feel like he would have left a message.
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.
Eating a girl out that was just in the ocean does not make her taste like saltwater taffy
I faked it too. I just spit on your bed.
Just to be safe, you should be prepared to jump out of a second story window
I love my boobs, they're the only thing that supports me. They make me a solid 6.
someone made her a trophy at 4 in the morning and presented it to her in the bathtub
Holy shit, Uber is testing a service to summon an ice cream truck.
Bring me the penis of the founder so I may endlessly fellate him. Or cunnalinge. I don't discriminate.
He stumbled out of the bar bathroom at 3:30 am with his jeans unzipped and his dick hanging out - it was the physical manifestation of "blackout with your cock out"
I have words... I can't think of them tho. they keep melting together and forming you and I just want to hump it.
Lmao I should put that ad on Craigslist "in need of muscular and determined team of men to carry drunken birthday whore safely home"
he woke me up with all the stuff I had at his house in boxes i had to unwrap my own belongings and he said. Happy v-day its time to see ya day! Worst day ever
I just want to drink bourbon and have sex and then eat like, a Christmas cookie.
Sorry I wore your bra during sex last night
Of course he's seen my tits, I wave those things around like a trump supporter does an American flag
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