he's 24. he finally texted me instead of using facebook chat. baby steps.
Only if you bring Listerine. I can't come home to my husband from a bachelorette party with spermbreath again.
Dude you has no fucking this poptart
What?
I dont know to explain this.
at last call she tried to get the bartender to fill her flask. when he refused, i had to stop her from trying to pour the rest of her beer in there.
I just tried to sell my homemade "lightning bolt stencil for pubes" on Etsy.
hes trying to draw the periodic table on his chest with a sharpie. i'm not sure how thats going to help him on his chem final, but he keeps shouting "this is how the pros do it"
while we were making out your friend starting kissing my toes and all you had to say was "just go with it"
you taught an eight year old how to shotgun a half pint of chocolate milk, that's all i'm saying
well at least now you can say you got an STD from the frontman of a band no one's heard of
fuck you.
I'n not even sure we went out, but I know we broke into a cemetery.
Can I borrow your google glasses to make a sex tape?
Drink. Fuck. Waffle House. Repeat.
That isn't the worst part. It got a bazillion times more awkward when he read me a poem he wrote about his dead cat.
My hangover headache is somewhere in the Harry Potter scar neighborhood. I can now empathize with that poor bastard.
Did I tell you he put a lobster carcass on his dick?
Randomize
