The cop asked you if you had been drinking and you said you drank milk out of a cow.
I rememeber. I showed him the picture on my phone of me drinking out of the utter, right?
We just set the fire alarm off with a fog machine. What's my first instinct? Finish my drink. I think I handled that correctly.
I liked a picture of him with his pants around his ankles, if that doesn't say I'm into you, I don't know what does.
Apprently after I bit that bouncer, it all went down hill.
I wish you could take over my body and feel what my nipple feels like right now
The heart of my unhappiness in my job is that it's not a place where coworkers and I can draw dicks on everything to amuse each other
My dating life has become some fucked up hydra of dicks; you cut one off and two pop up in its place.
I would love a rich wife. Then I would be like a gym teacher or some shit. Bigfoot hunter maybe.
I am not getting you a goat.
Fair enough. I am not going out with you. The goat was not negotiable.
THE VODKA TRAIN IS NOW PULLING INTO THE STATION
Literally every boy I've dated is now in a somewhat successful band. My vagina has obviously been blessed by the rock gods.
Last night I got drunk on margaritas at an Irish pub and came home with only one shoe. I have to get my shit together.
You really know how to show Monday who's boss.
Watching the series finale of Friends and crying in my Thai food. I don't like hangover Jared.
Also I will be receiving my own bra in the mail because I left it at his place, woops
Its like he got lessons from Jesus on how to use his tongue. And his dick.
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