Drunk in a bar in Texas. The 24 y/o hottie I am chatting up just called me a male cougar. I am dealing with this whole turning 40 thing juuuust fine.
we made malted milkshakes. malt as in malt liqour.
I have no idea. After the fireworks it all went to shit. Do you know why I woke up with a road sign?
She kept screaming "best case scenario"
you vomited through the snorkel and onto the back of your head. it was truly amazing
she is legit wearing a plastic bag around her neck as a necklace. she says it serves two purposes.
He got punched in the face, dropped his laptop down a flight of stairs, and broke his roommate's lava lamp, getting all the toxic lava goo everywhere. This is why we don't let him get drunk. And yet here we are.
If we could give a gymnastic score to drunken nights, I would be a part of the Fab Five.
Yea. I feel great. My life is great. My job isn't as shitty. And my daddy loves me. I love strip clubs. Great self esteem boost.
I found out that rock climbing and alcohol does not go together. Ask my broken arm.
They are going to name an STD after you.
I have to tell him to stop eating me out so I'm not late for work; my life could be a lot worse.
I'm still amazed at how you managed to get Doritos in my damn front pocket without me noticing. I got crumbs everywhere.
I boned my sugar daddy for the first time yesterday and now I know why they say guys in their 40s are the best. Also I’m getting a car.
He literally shouted this Viking war cry when he cam. Then as we laid there he sang me the most beautiful rendition of " When Irish Eyes are Smiling". I've never been more confused.
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