Cold hands, warm shart.
If I don't come home tonight, I've died in a pile of gay.
Actions speak louder than pants.
He ended up letting us go, I think he just felt sorry for us. It's the only time that my night's gotten worse after I've taken my pants off.
Whatever. I indirectly made you cum overseas. Call it even.
And he was super vague about his life, it was frustrating. I totally boned a homeless guy, didn't I?
Times like this, when you talk openly about Tinkerbell being your spirit animal, are times when I'm allowed to question your sexuality.
Dude in front of me just jumped out of line at Starbucks to go puke. Vegas in prime form.
I took the weekend off because he and I were supposed to go to Vegas for our anniversary and get a hooker remember?
Ah, yes. Who says romance is dead?
We turned a watering can into a margarita bong.
In the ER with Chelz, I may have broken her ankle during sex. Lovely.
Question: what's the protocol for seeing your mistress walking alongside her clueless boyfriend? If you could answer this ten minutes ago, that'd be great.
My booty call made my bed while I was in the shower. I may have to marry him.
my hair smells like a mixture of fireworks and rotten eggs with a hint of shame. it's so strong it's keeping me awake.
Sorry about peeing on your phone last night
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