We aren't going to mix hockey and sex texts tonight.
I totally agree. all sexting is on hold till after the games over.
Playoffs. This shit is serious.
Her boobs more than make up for all the flaws with her personality.
chatroulette drinking game turned into a foursome.
I woke up with his wallet, but not him. Gold-digging at it's finest.
She only remembers me when she's drunk. It's like I'm a suppressed memory that only surfaces with alcohol.
It was the classiest, most strategic and inspired vomiting I've ever witnessed. Like a blind mans first sunrise. A priests first prayer. Or a virgins first orgasm.
It wasn't until I took a shit, that I remembered that you assholes started spiking my shots with tobasco when I wasn't looking last night. Dicks.
I was at that stage of drunk where it seemed appropriate to just make out with everyone. As like a greeting.
I hear you
You'll have to pretend I'm texting you with buddychecks.
Like the Jimeny Cricket of cockblocks.
After you tried speaking to him in whale you asked if you could see his "blow hole." That's how bad it was.
Her boobs take up a lot of room so God had to skimp on the brains
I'm cool with a hey old buddy how have you been want to fuck me in the butt kind of thing
We are planning a drunk snapchat treasure hunt for tomorrow, and the treasure is his penis, this is a game I'm not willing to loose.
Woke up backwards on a recliner
There are footprints all over my windshield
You said you were making waffles...
Randomize
