Mars, I'm going to name my child horatio mars. He will hate me till he gets high. Then he'll understand
my mom used to put diet coke in my bottle. i can pretty much handle anything.
And with me just getting pulled over and you maxing your card out on tennis balls I don't know if we can afford it
sorry can't. you know Saturday is the masturbating day for single sorority girls here.
but they dont look like handprints. looks like someone had a boxing match with my tits and my tits lost
I'm still in my ugly sweater and underwear drinking coffee next to a plate of assorted treats we stole from the party. I got a new sweater by the way, its shoulderpad-y and looks like a news anchor got thrown up on by Liberace. I'm pretty proud.
So I have to send you an email about my weekend, heretofore referred to as The Perfect Weekend. Wherein I have lots of awesome sex with a guy with THE MOST AMAZING BODY.
I look forward to this email. I will respond with, Condoms and Creepers: The Adventures of Online Dating.
I felt like... 50% confused and 50% like a slow roasted flip flop.
Why do I feel like I need to drink to feel better about the things I do when I'm drunk
You had to dry your pants with the hand dryer in the bathroom because you "forgot to take it out."
At some point the phrase "I've hit rock bottom" stopped having a meaning and became my general state of life
Eh, I don't question what my penis likes. It just does what it does.
I just remembered that before we left my house I vowed to stay fully clothed and I FAILED
you were screaming "I don't need a shirt!" repeatedly while in the process of taking it off and flashing the bouncer. we got kicked out. thanks a lot.
Well, he pretended he was climbing me like he was a monkey and I was a tree during sex.
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