Sometimes I wonder if my friend studies mystic Christian theology because he's afraid to come out of the closet. Evidently, it's okay to talk about God coming inside you, but not to say the same about dudes.
he refused to get me toilet paper before we started drinking so I keep wiping with his towel.
I could swear I did coke with Jesus last night
And then I interrupted the father of the groom, to ask if she was "ballet or pole" in the middle of his story about his niece, the dancer.
He's having a heart to heart coversation with the keg about what he should do with his life.
It started out just like any other night: was watching a Zach Effron movie, drinking tequila out of a water bottle. I don't understand how this got out of hand.
I've got to stop giving the gift of vagina for every occasion. I'm exhausted.
Everything was going great until my fake mustache fell off when we started making out.
On a Thurs night I found myself drunk in a limo w 9 dudes on my way to a strip club. Once there I was handed $100 in ones and told "spend it." I need a husband. Or Jesus.
Should I take a fireball shot or brush my teeth?
Evidently I placed three booty calls at the same time...it was an ugly scene. I'm never getting that high again.
I just started talking about how noodles were so good
I was too hungover to sit up and pull the curtains closed so I did it with my toes
Can I come over and get it in, take a nap in ur bed, grab some poptarts and then leave?
You haven't lost that air of class about you...
in mid sex he pointed out my great gatsby tattoo and we started discussing themes and metaphors from our fave fitzgerald novels
you need to stop fucking English majors
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