I feel like I've been hit by a train. I woke up this morning covered in wine, free condoms, and a sign language dictionary.
2 bagels in my tummy and my herpes on my mind
just started drinking the sprite you used to ice your crotch last night. Missing you already
But fine, we can play that game. You can come over and we can have totally platonic, long, boring discussions. Or we can fuck. Whatever.
Everyone looked at me like I just fucked a gopher and was wearing it like a hat
She said I told her "I'm to drunk to take your bra off." then she said I walked out completely naked to go watch tv.
Everyone is drunk but me. Fantastic. Everyone is hooking up but me. Awkward.
I had a pitcher of margaritas. Now I'm in a laundry room being a 5th wheel and crying. I made myself a bed out of a pool floatie. I win.
If court goes my way we are flying to Vegas.
You don't understand. There's baclava and there's post sex baclava. You can't compare the two.
So he noticed that I cut a half inch off of my hair. Guess who just earned himself some road head on the way to the twin cities?
I'm out of prison. Wanna start a band?
I'm going to preface tonight by saying that I'm sorry for tequila, shopping carts, and having to chase me.
Drunk sperm are not productive sperm.
that guy was staring at your tits.
nah, more like they were staring at him, and his girlfriend, and her less than adequate bosom. they pitied the fool.
point taken, oh mistress of the bosoms.
so i put my jacket on last night that you wore last weekend, and reach inside the pockets and find them full of goldfish...
the snack that smiles back:)
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