I just saw a hobo shake a payphone until it spat out a bunch of quarters. what a champ.
he invited me to an all week drinking party at his house. apparently he knows the key to my heart is booze shaped.
we literally hit three floors of our apartment building searching for condoms. also got macaroni.
Calling yourself a modern day Geisha doesn't justify being a whore.
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He tried peeing out of the sunroof.
He told me he breastfed 'til he was six. That explains the obsession with me getting fake tits. Is it a red flag?
Is putting "Tonight I'm Fucking You" on my date playlist too forward?
He's currently surrounded by roughly 23 girls he fucked and never called. He may not make it out of here. Bar of doom? Or of redemption?
I just hit myself in the face while taking off my shirt. I could never be a stripper.
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At this point i guess a traditional, non-life-threatening pity fuck is too much to ask for
It felt like a sumo wrestler slapped me. With a wet hand. 8 times in a row.
I can't find the remote or the Doritos. Someone call 911. S.O.S. I sent this in Braille.
Worst case scenario- he paid me for sex with meatloaf. There are worse thing, right? I mean at least is was good meatloaf.
so i may or may not have just had sex on the stage of the lecture hall....
He's a freak. Not like "freak in the bed" freak but like "eats glue in the weekends" freak.
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