So, I woke up to an empty bottle of scotch and a dead car. The last thing I remember are the strippers being mad at me. Awesome night.
Feels good to be wearing underwear again though...
I have a new reason to go to work: I can tell which 3 of my coworkers are sisters just by looking at their butts.
he changed my name in his contacts to "rick", so his mom wouldn't know he was texting me
a price tag just fell out of my vag. i guess its worth $13.99...
I've crashed the car, it's a write off. The police are here and I'm dressesd as a crayon.
"thanks for the sex" was written in lipstick on my bathroom mirror. i'm officially done with random hook ups.
My bed smells like stale sex...I want it to smell like fresh sex, I miss you.
The heart of my unhappiness in my job is that it's not a place where coworkers and I can draw dicks on everything to amuse each other
Dude you of all people would miss her giving him a handjob in front of the whole party
I am seriously thinking about wearing a blanket as a cape. So when I pass out tonight the blanket might keep me warm.
You know when you get a stripper pays your bail. You got good wood.
Actually, I take that back. You can only have it if I'm allowed to French braid the mullet.
I just need to drink whiskey get off and eat some cheese. Why is that so fucking hard for god to deliver.
Dude, I'm trippin balls. For real, I thought this bag on my floor was my dog for the longest time...
nobody was home so I boiled the dildo
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