The guy in front of me in line at Starbucks looks kinda like Danica Patrick except he has a huge boner.
i cant even explain all the reasons why i dont want to fuck you right now.
i feel like pocahontas...the disney character not from real chance of love
He plays me like an instrument...he is the Carlos Santana of my vagina.
I usually would've stopped there but I kinda remember opening the bottle of vodka, and we ALL know that's when things go downhill.
The whiskey is fighting the tequila on who wants to be the one who end my night first.
If you come home soon there's a stripper in the shower. Don't be alarmed
That's some primal shit right there. My vagina is all like CONSUME HIM AND HIS FRUIT HE WILL GIVE YOU SONS!
That feeling when you're ready to convert to the religion of whatever god will stop the vomit. Dynamite is illegal.
Also, my aunt grabbed my phone and downloaded the scriptures. Apparently I need Jesus.
You spent the whole night conversing with your zombie poster, so I'd say you were pretty far gone.
taking shots alone in my kitchen before I go learn to give a lapdance. when did this become my life?
HE LIVES IN ANOTHER STATE
actually scratch that last text, he's the perfect boyfriend. He stays faithful and doesnt find out about all the guys here. it's a win-win
Oh you know, we just bobbed for apples in a bucket full of jungle juice. So, a casual Tuesday night.
I blacked out after the piñata full of condoms
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