I've thrown up so many times in the third floor bathroom of Baldwin that they should probably just go ahead and name it after me.
I just need to know if he's either really genuine about being in my life or being in my vagina.
SANTA'S REAL. I GOT MY PERIOD.
He told her, Don't talk. Just sit there so I can imagine that you have the kind of personality I wish you had.
I just realized I have yet to puke in your new apartment. Clearly we're doing something wrong. On my way over with Cuervo as I type.
you're not a real person. you're actually just like a box of wine that can talk
He needs a high five right to the fucking mouth. With a chair. Or an atomic bomb.
My period started right as he was entering, which really helped me sell the "I've never done this before" bit.
He is 30 (that's 8 years older than I am) and uses more Emojis than I do. Problem?
So I've been spending my morning trying to figure out if there's a corealation between Wednesday margarita night and the boat that's now in my living room.
True fear is being unable to remember where you hid your weed and vibrator in your parent's house.
We were making out on the floor and his 13 year old beagle crawled in between us & just sat there...I got cockblocked by an ancient beagle named Bubba
the fact you finally accept your bi don't shock me but as your fuck buddy I expect you girls to go family style on me
I need you to sex the hangover out of me again.
Is it sad that the most attractive guy I've come across in a week that's not my professor is the man doing my pedicure?
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