So yesterday I was on craigslist and I saw a listing for a sofa-cum-bed. I knew what they meant...
I did that thing where I cum for no reason again.
then you asked me to turn your jeans into "jorts" just long enough to cover your ballsack
I woke up, not remembering how or when or why i was even there and looked over to find Steph spooning with an adult black man.
sorry we overslept. have a good day at work. p.s. thanks for making it feel like my vagina got hit by a train.
You wrote me a letter and I cannot make out anything you wrote except the last sentence which says "tell the wolf ill meet him at sunset and that I'm sorrry"
I just spent the last 30 mins playing uplifting songs to my uterus, & there's no way I'm pregnant.
Oh boy. Send him a care package with laxative cookies and alcohol. So he can shit himself while he's passed out drunk.
So shaving my butt whilst humming "be prepared" is now in my top five weirdest Friday night activities.
You used your chihuahua as a pillow screaming "HE'S A PILLOW AND A PET" and proceeded to puke in the dog bed
I need to wash the frat house off of me
You threw up a gallon of vomit. I really have never seen anything like it in my decade of partying.
it's your last night here, let's make it one we may or may not remember.
For a second I thought he was going to give me an intervention
You can't give interventions in a bar!
I bonged champagne. And did keg stands. What in the actual fuck am I doing with my life?
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