And that's when I found out that Patrick wasn't in fact down with O.P.P.
Just boiled hotdogs in bongwater. NOT a good idea.
I was speaking french the whole night. Until i got arrested. Then I decided I should probably start speaking English.
I wouldn't necessarily call it an addiction, more of a passion. I'm habitually passionate.
If you go to the bathroom don't ask why there's diet coke on the toilet. Loller copter. Blow is fun.
It's one of those nights that you wish to god someone would booty call you, and then realize you'll just be stuck here with your poptart...
the chips you spilled whiskey on is not the same thing as Irish breakfast potatoes
It's entirely possible that I'm fucking yet another gay guy
eh, I feel I'm heading for a breakdown and I need to get it out of the way before I start writing that lab report.
She told me having sex was our civic duty. How can I not love her?
Ok thats great. so just to recap: you fucked a billionare in his penthouse last night, and I had a glass of wine on the toilet.
I keep having dreams where I tie him up and eat cookies off of him while riding him. Wtf brain.
Long story short I shit on a sidewalk while walking with multiple people. Then sprinted around the streets of Tallahassee in only gym shorts as I tore my toga off and wore it as a cape.
They were out of watermelon smirnoff, so we got you a fifth of 5 o'clock and an actual watermelon.
He ate me out for an eternity. Like fell asleep, woke up, and he was still doing it.
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