Thanks again for letting me crash last nite. Sorry I banged your little brother.
I saw hookers! I saw hookers! I saw hookers! I saw hookers! I saw hookers! I saw hookers! Live in the flesh!
If she wasn't my friend I'd think she was a huge slut
I stumbled into my living room at 4 a.m. to find him hurling my laptop across the room and his pants around his ankles. Clearly his night didn't go as planned.
It was everywhere, it looked like he just took the leftovers and threw them around the bathroom... Festively...
I think I just need to get a pillow shaped like a toilet seat.
As if me making pizza in a skillet wasn't enough proof that I was in no state to be cooking, this burn blister on my hand is
I think being an adult is being able to say no to free shots...I need to work on that.
My blowjobs put them in a state of relaxation similar to that of getting hit with a tranquilizer. The fear comes after the sex.
I want to figure out a way to work "if you suddenly die, I might turn into an extreme hoarders" into my valentines day poem
I felt really bad for not letting her go in, it was like we were dangling lesbians in front of her
I, soberly, gave myself a concussion trying to take a pic of my vagina. Fuck you and your hangover.
It was a good hour of moans, penis compliments, smacks, and what sounded like someone running in flip flops
I'm eating cookie dough with a tongue depressor for lunch.
Speaking of dignity, who all saw me....
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