So I have to ask... did I meet your lumberjack expectations? I mean, minus the red flannel and all.
I know its small, but please -- stop calling it my "weenis".
you came home covered in oatmeal wearing a tutu holding a stolen wrotting pumpkin and "its a girl" balloons tied around your neck.you were whispering the lyrics to aaron carters 'aarons party'. i think the real question was what DIDNT you drink last night
He told me he was ok to drive home. Then I found him face-planted in the parking lot.
Dude. I tried to convince her to eat poprocks and give me a blowjob. It did not work out well.
we found you under the sink... we opened up the doors and you told us to go away because you were playing indian in the cupboard
I feel as though the word "tired" has become synonymous with "too high to manage the stairs" lately
As one final fuck you to the courthouse i'm paying the rest of this ticket with sacajawea coins.
Apparently, we were running around the apartment, singing into pickles, the routinely slapped our passed out friends with them.
My lower body still feels like its been through a garbage disposal and a trash compactor. In that order.
I swear to god, my hangover cure is a green tea and a 15 minute twerkout. works every time
He dropped some cash when he got in my front seat upside down. And a hat. I'm keeping them as retribution for not remembering that he had sex with me once before. Although, if he didn't have his dick pierced, I wouldn't have remembered either.
His parents bailed him out, the police said they found him on a curb trying to call people on his wallet, hahha. He had his wallet open to his ear callin people
I am putting clothes on to go find a brownie
In my experiences, brownies are better naked.
I have post one night stand depression
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