I'm going to but the new Playboy with Chelsea Handler on the cover. I'm pretty sure it's the only time buying a Playboy will make me gayer...
the last thing i remember is unlocking the door. its like i was literally opening the door to my blackout
He goes "sorry was at the gym. Some of us workout " and I wanted to text him back and go "well some of us do occasional drugs so we don't have to"
Idk. The last coherent text said something about $25 & dimes. And then...it's just letters...
He sent me a snap chat of his naked torso with cookies over his nipples. Like.... that does not make me want you homeboy.
The last thing I remember from that party was me shouting "hold my feet I'm going in strapped like Rambo"
Up until today, I never would have thought I'd have to tell someone not to color on the cat
At one point she whispered in my ear "I overdrew my bank account today" but besides that it was an awesome lap dance
Sent him a nude and I forgot to crop out the Jesus picture in the background. The Catholic guilt is too real.
My phone just put together a highlight reel of yesterday's dick pic session, set to music and everything
WHAT A DUMBASS ugh I'm so glad he looks like a middle aged dad now
He has great stamina, he knows how to use his tongue, and he's hung like a goddamn Pegasus. I can overlook the man bun.
The only thing he told me before he passed out was that he is from Buffalo and I'm a bitch.
Ugh hungover at a laundromat is a terrible feeling. For some reason I keep getting sucked into staring at the clothes spinning around and around and it makes me want to profusely projectile vomit everywhere
He broke both of his legs jumping out of a window to escape a coyote.
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