To answer your question of whether I "went back," tits just informed me I was kicked out for falling off my barstool and passing out on the floor...
He's paying me $45 to clean his room and $55 if i find the oxy that he lost.
HOnestly. That's my one goal for this whole trip. I don't give a shit about souvenirs or sand. I want penis.
I woke up with his wallet, but not him. Gold-digging at it's finest.
somebody put my brain in a crown royal bag and beat the shit out of it
Dude you were so high some kid was kicking the wall and you were convinced it was your heartbeat
Dude you were tripping so badly we put a pretend box around your head and you spoke silently for the rest of the night. I think pterodactyls were involved.
I wasn't vocally whispering "she wants to bite your dick off" about that kirsten girl was I?
if memory serves, the guy you were hooking up with said he was a slutty skittle.
He had a step stool to get in to his bed!
I couldn't do it. You can't break up after that many orgasms. It's physically impossible.
Tomorrow after you go to the library to look up gay porn, I'm going to come to your apartment to paint a nude portrait of you. Get pumped, plopernickle.
The fact that we all screamed by Felicia to a bitch actually named Felicia will be a highlight of my life
Our lives are a motherfucking joke
I woke up in a boat, with a life jacket on, tons of beer cans and no lake... I was inside a garage. WTF
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