last thing I heard her say before I passed out was 'this is great. I never get to be the big spoon.'
My walk of shame was far more interesting today. He's moving and was cleaning out his apartment, so not only was I carrying my clothes, I also walked away with 4 bottles of cheap wine and a jar of ragu.
The last thing I remember is pushing my way into the bathroom and dumping a 40 on him. We havent talked since.
It was ths the worst 15 minutes of my life. . . It was like fucking a warm stick of butter.
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I'm going to have to start playing roller derby again so I can blame my sex-related bruises on that.
The van in front of me contains people having SEX. I am in full view of a SEX VAN.
Passing out on a toilet is not classy no matter what you're wearing. Not even a pea coat.
He's like... An octopus that touches my vagina in all these diff ways at the right times. It's almost unsettling
Running my fingers through my hair was like that scene in Patch Adams where the old lady got to swim in a pool of pasta. I love Molly.
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He keeps asking the karaoke guy to play let it go from frozen so he can sing it in a falsetto
And the view of you in reverse cowgirl is arguably the most spectacular view ever... And I've seen the Eiffle tower, the colosseum, mountains of Hawaii, Michaelangelo's David, and the Mona Goddamn Lisa. Just saying.
So now I can cross "have my ass be someone's phone background" off the bucket list. You know, if it was something I actually had wanted to happen.
I AM GONNA CUM EVERYWHERE TONIGHT BRO.
I love you, and I just washed my hair in my work sink with handsoap.
The cure for a hangover evidently is not walking around in a costume in the sun towards of park of screaming children
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