Remind me to tell you the Scottish bar story tomorrow
Remind me to tell you it was a shitty story when you're done telling it tomorrow
I was so high last night. I wrote a poem about my salt shaker
i caught him jerking off, doing his SAT Prep. forever alone.
Why is it only times like these when I'm scrubbing the cum stains off my futon before my family gets here that I seriously begin to question my life choices?
But she tried her best to break my penis, so she has a few free passes with me
You tried taking his shirt off at the bar. He was 37 and married with kids.
Lost my credit card. M has a bottle of blood in her pocket from a hobo.
Eating my shrimp pasta on the porch with a 40, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, proclaiming "I GOT SCRIMPS." I just jumped the shark of college.
The guy had great intentions when throwing us free beer off the balcony... but of course I was the one to get hit in the face because that's the kind of luck I have
I was alternating between saying "yall need Jesus" and "God bless" the entire night
I woke up the whole house screaming I need my shorts they found me in the kitchen with a bag of strawberries naked
That was right around the time that the drunken mess pulled out his dick in front of myself and like 10 other people and started peeing all over the train platform while saying, "Sometimes a bear gets you brother. Sometimes a bear gets you."
Pretty standard Thursday night commute for you, no?
He doesn't like Sabbath and that alone is a GIANT red flag. Learn from my experiences and never, I mean NEVER associate with people that hate Black Sabbath and Motörhead.
So when did "Are you okay?" translate into "Don't tell me you got fucked by another rando after another rager"?
But then our conversations are like black box recordings. Just the stuff you hear when the plane is going down
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