I don't know what's more sad: The fact that he fingered the side of my leg, or the fact that the side of my leg feels like a vagina.
She told me I had to leave by four. We fucked until six thirty and we are the champions played on the way home. Yeah god knew
Welll when you have a beer at 8:30 am you've already decided whaat kind of Sunday it ism
Update: I just puked into a sock. It was the only thing available at the time. Why I happened to be holding a sock, we may never know.
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It says a lot about how well I know you when I can understand messages of yours that say things like "sauteed Jesus."
no more heavy drinking durning the lady that cleans the office told me i have to emtpy my own thrash if i puke in it
How the hell did he get a boner in that type of situation?
Last night, I accomplished the impossible. I pissed while riding my bicycle home without pissing all over myself. My Dutch friends gave me a round of applause and said I was now the king of holland.
I know shes my ex. And I know she punched me in the face and stole my car to go get drunk. But it's the best sex I've ever had.
You're sick. Take pictures if you can.
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Opening beer with my teeth is getting easier the drunker I become.
It turns out my teeth are bleeding.
I'm gonna make some noodles and go to bed. Hopefully I don't fall into the stove or something.
You mowed a straight line through three yards because you were, and I fucking quote, "In the zone." I think they know.
I feel like too many of my sentences start of with "Hey, fuckface!"
I'm still trying to figure out who shit on the coffee table. I have confirmed beyond a reasonable doubt that it wasn't me.
Saw throw up in the parking lot at work, glad I'm not the only one. But now the search begins.
Mary's wearing shades at her desk, brilliant!
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