the date was going great.. until he pulled down his pants and asked if there was any hair in between his cheeks.
i woke up with "only hugh can prevent florist friars" written up my arm ... i need to know what we did last night
i'm too stoned to be pregnant. the kicking is morse code for wanting beef jerky.
Listening to my boss get blown in the next room by a male bartender from the gay bar. And watching pawnstars. Tell me I'm not the best wingman ever.
It's raining. Will need ride home and blow job.
Also, turning on the light this morning was a 3 step process. Way too hungover.
when im done with her im going to need you to carry me on your shoulders as i poses victoriously for all those who were within earshot
Remember when we pinky swore we'd never feel hungover alone...
You were walking around in your swim suit, an open robe, snow boots and a death grip on that handel of captain morgan.
He puked over my shoulder into the toilet. The guy in the next stall sounded totally appalled.
.As long as you're some how patriotic with your sexual escapades, I can support it.
And then I fed you egg rolls in bed as you were screaming I'm moving out
Dude, we got to the strip club as they were closing, and you starting crying because, and I quote, "This is the closest to birthday sex I'm gonna get."
This is like 50 shades on steroids but with healthy relationship models and mutual respect among all parties involved and lesbian activity.
You’ll (maybe) appreciate that I picked at my ingrown hair again. Quarantine updates are getting BLEAK.
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