Text. Mid BJ. 8 points.
im like that movie w. ryan reynolds, no ones ever going to date me unless they're forced to marry me.
i spent 15 mins trying to take money out of ATM with my drivers license saying, "what the fuckkkk" everytime it didnt work
he was definitely TRYING to give me herpes.
I'm having flashbacks from last night. Did I admit to pausing Whitney's funeral because I was watching porn? I believe I did.
I think I just sold a snake to a stoned teenager.
I swear to God, if you drunkenly correct my grammar one more time, I'm cutting you off.
I just want him to come back from NOLA alive, without an arrest record or stripper glitter on his clothes...
Those seems like unreasonable expectations for a bachelor party honestly...
I asked if I could borrow some condoms. She referred to herself as "a soup kitchen for whores".
I didn't want to hook up with him so I just jumped out of bed, yelled "I don't even believe in god!" and ran out of the room
I've had 5 hours of sleep and I still smell like sex with the Colonel. I don't appreciate spontaneity.
She puked off the side of the cruise ship onto a newlyweds balcony table and they watched it all happen then they made her clean it up
bitch, i have a flask. i've got things under control.
god. marry me.
You told everybody that you were a dragon and then projectile vomited all over the kitchen.
My life is over, I got a mugshot while wearing a shirt that said 'milf hunter'.
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