You text me last night that you invented a new food. Cheese-less grilled cheese. Congrats, you made toast.
Every day I regret the life decisions that led me to bank management and NOT being a coke addicted stripper. Every. Single. Day.
I'm sorry I can't get drinks with you. I have to make sure my dad doesn't go to jail.
We're going to shave my junk and take pictures of it wearing fake mustaches we found at the dollar store. They're uncannily realistic; much better than the cockstaches of my youth.
I just made the answer to all my security questions "fuck you" with various levels of ! marks. I may regret this in the morning.
You came running into my room at 4 in the morning yelling "SANCTUARY!" and flung yourself into bed.
Hmmm, sounds like a Jaeger night then. Did I at least get to be the little spoon?
I will expect an hourly check text to confirm you are alive and that you aren't dead in a ditch somewhere with a hobo dry humping your corpse
Some small part of me hopes I'm on the probationary list because of seeing the Dean at that fetish party.
You don't marry someone you don't want to fuck senseless this is 2014 dammit
...I watched him run on the beach yesterday and I think I started ovulating
HE IS. YOU SHOULD TOUCH HIS BACK.
IT IS A COURTSHIP RITUAL.
THE MUTUAL BUTT TOUCH IS SACRED.
You are not allowed to sing ever again, my ears are still ringing.
Started dabbing in blow again because he always hated that I did it. Yuh I’m doing drugs but at least I’m doing me?
If I'm not there when the plane leaves, I didn't make it through security. See you at home! Vegas bitches!!!
You showed up at 4 am holding a beer and wearing a wig you apparently found in the dumpster.
That explains some things...
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