sitting in my room eating a boneless rib tv dinner, and listening to taylor swift's love story, and i sharted. had to finish the ribs and hear the end of the song before i went to the bathroom to wipe.
Your remote is drenched in lotion and you expect me to believe you weren't masturbating?!
is it sad that I can recall my outfits by who took them off?
The good news is the bleeding stopped. I think I'm going to sober up before I tell you the bad news though.
You hit on my mom and then passed out in the kiddie pool.
We were dancing and she was clawing my stomach like a fat kid getting to a half broken pinata.
He told me the color of his piss. Worst. First date. Ever.
Romney sounds like a middle school girl and that creepy ass smile makes me want to close my blinds
I blacked out at work again... Except this time my boss watched me throw up by the bus stop and some woman let me sleep on her shoulder for an hour. Why does this keep happening?
I wish we could all take a bath together. Not in a lesbian way. But in a relaxing drunk in the tub sort of way.
Of course I fucked him. He's a professional beat boxer, his entire job is to do complicated shit with his tongue.
Would I be crazy if I drove 1,000 miles for some dick? What mile does it become ridiculous?
At this point in job hunting, I'm willing to become a leather daddy if it means some sort of income.
There's nothing classy about a pregnant girl at a frat party...remember that.
I left you a really long drunk voicemail and I remember something about a bat
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