Text. Mid BJ. 8 points.
Yeah i wasn't gonna go out but then i was like im not gonna get my dick wet stayin at home studying
woke up to an unread text message i sent to myself: "brreakfdast..pork and ice cream."
All of my current injuries can be related back to sex.
martini and pecan pie.. breakfast of champions.
Drunk. I slept-stripped.
By myself.
I think we can all look back on last night and categorize it under, " reason why Cory can't be left at the bar by himself"
your drunk ass trust falled a guy double fisting bud limes and as a result your head bounced off the patio table. So that might explain the stitches on the back of your head.
Remember when I said "no boyfriend, no problems"? I lied. Tequila. Tequila is a problem.
my professor saw me buying beer for the super bowl and said go patriots. thats how i know im getting an A in his class.
Vodka drinking games. Where you wake up next to a douche lord and see your thong in the blinds.
I think this Canadian beach volleyball player might be my soulmate. We could check each other's shoulders for melanoma.
Remind me to tell you about how I hit a tree with my car last night.
I'll be glad to.
...this is why fuck buddies should be only for grownups.
He ate me out in a limo while we were driving home. I love bars being open again!
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