So while she was giving me a lap dance I told her I quit med school. Just so she didn't feel like the only one who's made bad decisions in their life.
i just thought that perhaps i was done with the "boning on someone else's futon" stage of my life. guess not.
I've already started drinking so the earlier you get out of class the more coherent I'll probably be.
I forgot that I thought it would be a good idea to hairspray my toilet seat last night after I took 12 shots of vodka so when I just went to pee, I stuck to the toilet. Never drinking again.
Next time we include dessert condiments into our sex life we can fuck up my sheets. It's only fair.
i'm pretty sure i can feel a baby kicking just looking at him. if he didnt impregnate you, you officially have an iron-clad uterus.
Almost to work. And still feel hungover. Like my body is trying to regenerate after dying. Full on zombie shit. But like, one of those zombies from warm bodies that comes back to life slowly.
Just had a VERY VIVID visualization of wrapping a pizza around my cock and fucking its brains out. Soooooo less weed more dates?
He was hammered and shot his pistol into the lawn. Next thing I know sheriffs are at our house with M4s. He likes to party
I came in shy and timid. By the end of the night I hulked out broke two lamps, their coffee table, some plates, and still had sex.
Also, I've finally come to the point in the relationship when having sex with socks on is ok.
... drunk me broke the coffee table?
STOP TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF IN THE THIRD PERSON. YOU DID THE THING.
I woke up in your kitchen with my ID in my hand and my nails were painted electric blue. Dude.... never let me have fireball again.
Like either my tits got bigger or I've succumbed to Trumps tiny hand syndrome
So uh... Did you mail me business cards that describe my profession as "tortured soul"?
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