There's a hobo dancing by himself. Is anyone going to ask how he got in the house?
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I wish there was a classy way to show off your boobs.
I've never played a more sexually-tense game of Uno in my life.
I demanded respect from my fuck buddy. Drunk me is not fun.
I swear, its like my old fuck buddies have a 6th sense for when I'm going to be daydrunk. Then they start texting me. And then I start sexting them
i'm about to tell me dad "sorry staying in isnt an option. i'm fucking a marine tonight."
I am far too hungover to deal with the fact I can hear you masturbating in the bathroom.
i went to the 24h massage place last night and brought down the price for a hand job from $50 to $12.75 and half the big mac left in my bag.
Rule travel - in 2s or put an ankle monitor on me, and maybe a shock collar.
Ah. Hot spring. Infinitely less skeevy than a hot tub. These North Carolinian dudes are all class.
Hey, dude, is Kevin still passed out on your porch?
Yeah. I'm gonna go leave a pitcher of bloody mary next to him in case he's still alive.
It's all fun and games until you have to pay the bar tab.
I felt like I was selling my soul to satan but then I realized I already pawned it for drug money
PS: bike ride of shame at 7am includes riding by kids waiting for the school bus #classy
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