So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
I wish that vaginas would just grow when you're ready for sex. Like when you dont need your vagina its not there, but when you need it...BAM its there. then no one would see it when you get drunk
yeah...or you could just stop doing cartwheels in skirts
i would hope so, cause i don't think 'i drove off the road because i was getting some head' is covered in insurance
you were watching the nanny crying, saying I wish I was that thin eating twinkies. THAT DRUNK.
I have now added draft and wells specials that different bars have to my blackberry calendar.. Help me.
If she says "This is how acid feels" one more time I'm never trip-sitting them again.
Are you still feeling it? I'm in the bathtub. The water doesn't work but it's okay because I'm wearing pants.
Are you texting, crying and driving?
And missing part of my eyebrow. Correct that is the description one would give of me at the moment.
Right as the plane left the gate the brownies kicked in. I dont think the guy next to me appreciated my engine noises as we took off
Drunk Sam makes promises that Sober Sam can't keep
So apparently, after 11 beers, 2 pitchers of sangria and 3 rhum & cokes, the idea of popping a load of MD and jumping on the trampoline, in the woods, in my underwear was the best one ever.
I told him that we shouldn't complicate things. He responded with a dick pic.
He fucked me in one of the back rooms at the club then gave me an altoid. I have mixed feelings about it still.
he told me he wanted me to go see his cat. apparently i was more interested in playing with his cat then having sex.
ok, muffins say "love me", waffles say "fuck me", got it.
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