No, asshole. I'm not gay. But if I was I think I would do better than fucking Nick Lachey.
today i did the best job ever shaving. like my vagina is PERFECT. plus i straightened my hair for a good hour. if i don't get ass tonight, i'm killing a baby.
So i learned you can't hair-of-a-dog jaeger hangovers.
thank you for letting me use your house as a brothel.
I don't even know. I woke up in the bathtub with no shirt, covered in towels holding what appeared to be vanillia pudding mixed with captain morgan.
You walked away saying that you had to pee and you never came back. We found you an hour later in his roommate's bed. Under the covers. Still in your wet bathing suit.
I think I might be drunk enough to cut my own hair
Maybe you can hide out somewhere she would never go. Like a counseling center or AA
when I woke up, he was drunk and singing "soft kitty" and petting my face
Directions to your booty call: go down the part of Route 66 that has all the car dealerships, motels and bad decisions, go past the Christian college and turn left at the Children's Center.
Client visitor days are the worst. If I have to wear a tie and can be hungover at least have the decency to find some more attractive visitors
God this is like a meg Ryan movie without the restaurant orgasms
Found a pic on my phone from last night. You're drunk. Arm wrestling some guy. In the bar bathroom. At a baby changing station. It's my new wallpaper.
Where do you think black out memories go?
Into the dark abysmal abyss of the deepest, darkest part of your mind. It's obviously the bodies natural defense to protect you from witnessing the shit you do while actually blacked out.
He said they were his favorite shoes.. So I threw one down the sewer. Now he'll keep searching the house for the other one. Sweet silent revenge.
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