Oh no, it isn't official until she poops.
after last night i think it would be a good idea if i wrote a will... you know, just in case.
she called me a fuckfaceshitdick. not that's creative. it sounds like a crayola crayon, preferrably an orange-brown shade.
with your flexibility, and the size of my penis, amazing things are possible.
Eventually the creepy theater major quirks will come out. Probably in bed. Like role playing as the Phantom of the Opera
oh god my hair smells like rotten vegetables, sweat, and tequila. I wanna party with your neighbors every night.
We split an eighth of shrooms and went ice fishing. It didn't get weird until I caught one and we both started crying.
At least you get to smell pizza at your job. I just smell despair all day long.
I am at a new level of appreciation for drunk-you, who threw up into her own sweatshirt pocket last night in the car. Brava.
Like he held up the condom afterwards, twirled it with his finger, and said "look at that load"
Drunk me commented on almost all of her pictures. My favorite one is titled "be as the sea". My comment is "cold, rough, large and letting anyone come inside you. you accomplished." Guessing I'm not invited to the party anymore.
I hear jingle bells and I can't tell if it's bc I'm feeling festive or just REALLY high
Ehh, the third backed out. Two still isn't bad. Who gets a bootycall to pick them up from a bootycall's house anyways? Only me.
11:30pm - Shots together. 12:15pm Shots together. 12:45pm Shots together. 9:30am Plan B's together.
I called him the wrong name all night, yet I still got a ride home from the party and hooked up with the guy. I'm irresistible.
Randomize
