she was bad bro. like...id rather put my dick in a blender. twice.
and before you know it i was laying next to him at 2 in the morning with penis and sadness on my breath.
Highlight of my evening, pile of books falling onto me in front of people
totally poinked my lawyers daughter in his hot tub last night. i figure getting off is just compensation for not getting me off.
He just ordered a bottle of Beam at an Italian place for us to share.
whatever. i don't care. i just want to be drunk wrapped in an american flag.
she looked at me completely serious and said "orgasms are 15% Stronger during a hurricane" and started to take all her clothes off
booty call birthday vouchers, best idea ever. it's like giving a present to myself for someone else's birthday.
He just texted me asking if I remember pinching his eyelid shut with my eyelash curler.
I yelled at the dude who smoked him up "YOU'RE THE REASON I'M NOT GETTING LAID" then went to bed. So yeah, I guess it was an ok night.
Still slightly drunk, sitting in Hyde park village. Two small children are dancing and singing "call me maybe" on the fountain in front of me. Am I hallucinating?
I jammed my finger giving him a hand job. Don't ask how, I'm still trying to figure that out.
she's the poster child for how alcoholism can be fun.
COME AND FUCKING GET ME I AM IN SOME SORT OF JUNKYARD!!!
Guess who just stumbled into work hungover, wearing yesterday's clothes, covered in hickeys and glitter, and carrying a giant bottle of rum in her purse.
I just took plan B at work.
This is the greatest story of all time.
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