I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
hey can i ask you a kinda weird question?
i know what the question is. yes they are bigger, and no i did not get plastic surgery
dont like to call her my roomate, too cordial. i refer to her as the whore that was assigned to live with me
You text me last night that you invented a new food. Cheese-less grilled cheese. Congrats, you made toast.
I dont know whats worse: her telling me she was so drunk i was "almost sexy," the fact that even when theyre shitfaced, im just "almost sexy" to girls, or the fact that i wasnt that offended by it.
Thanks i'm proud of you and I'm proud of beer and vodka for making me drunk
I went down on her for 35 minutes and didn't even get a handy. I've never felt more desire to be gay in my life.
when the officer asked him if he had been drinking, he just goes, "yeah, you?" then falls onto the table.
I was a battlefield of empty bottles and bodies. We though we won, but the booze had the last laugh.
Apparently she has a 10 week old kid, which would explain the hallway effect I was feeling.
She started telling me about this odd patch of smooth skin under her boobs. Not sure if she was hitting on me or looking for free advise from a doctor...
I mean, I still played with her tits for like 20min tho.
I woke up in a tutu and topless. How was your night?
I'm watching Pretty Woman alone and weaving a basket for Fiona. This is my life.
So now I know what having sex while surrounded by chickens feels like.
All I remember is that I was trying to call my wolf pack by howling.
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