Memo to the bitch sitting across from me at Swamp: no one thinks you're classy with your Louis Vuitton and your Burberry scarf when you're dragging on that cig like it was the last cock on earth and you needed cum for sustenance.
I just woke up with the words DO IT on my hand and six beers in my purse.
dude, she was giving me a lapdance and her thong had a skid mark. no I did not hit it.
I'm having a self conscious moment and I need your complete honest opinion of my boobs.
whiskey dick. though we did manage to break my closet door and flood the bathroom.
Drinking with a woman who gave an anti-drugs speech at my high school. Somehow, not surprised.
Ong my arms are moving wo my consent
and ive been naked for the greater part of the evening. alone, drunk, and naked. i think that is how all great interventions start.
We proceeded to buy tattoos from the dollar store and interpretive dance to of monsters and men, it's safe to say he's my new fuck buddy
I have no idea how but i got a hold of a blue food dye packet. And proceeded to rub it all over my tits. So yeah i'd say its safe to say i'll be known as smurfette for a while
Tolerating him while I'm not drunk is like trying to find a word that rhymes with orange
Last night was a whirlwind of vodka - induced emotion
The moral of the story is this:the last shot of the night is always a mistake
You were staring right at you dick at the urinals, then looked at all the other guys dicks and fist pumped saying "I win!"
your marriage is hazardous to my nightlife
yea, mine too.
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