A relator touring our house this week saw the picture in our bathroom of steven passed out, yellow faced, with BALLS on his forehead, and had to ask "if that kid was alive or dead".
No fireworks. Throwing the old microwave off the deck.
It was that same situation where "cuddling on the floor" was actually just code for "rough shameful hate sex" hahaha.
She was wasted talking to my dad about the hunger games than she passed out in the shower and flooded the hotel room...
All I vaguely remember from last night is getting up on that nice mahogany table and debating about squirrel's rights
well, at the moment I'm sleeping in someone's closet in a buzzlightyear snuggie, so I can't judge,
I feel like shit, and I can't get the band aids off my nipples.
When the strippers start dancing to Christmas songs it's time to get the fuck out!
Don't worry my mom is buying me a vasectomy for Christmas
Hey, what's a nice way of saying "Why'd you send me a picture of your boobs last night" without seeming ungrateful?
My sex life reached a new low tonight: we stopped into this bar so I could pee and when I got out of the bathroom my parents had ordered a round for us and this traveling nurse they met and were trying to run game for me. Saddest part? She was actually going for it.
Another thing to add to the list of things not to do while I'm drunk......explain to the upstairs neighborr how to have quiet orgasams......she now thinks I want to be part of a threesome......fuck my life
Not drinking until my bday. I know it's only a few days but it feels like when couples get celibate before the wedding and there's all that tension.
Ladies night is a gift from god. If it weren't for that, I'd probably be selling my eggs for booze money.
I don’t want to brag, but vows, morals and will power are no match for my blow job skills
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