Afterall, it is the real San Francisco treat
I have a voicemail from Mike at 1am. He starts to say something, but then throws up instead.
My night sucks. It's really hard to masturbate with a broken finger.
At front desk. Got a beer drinking pigeon.
Throwing up out both ends. This is not how I pictured adulthood.
I know it basically makes me the worst feminist ever, but I don't want to kill my own spiders. And I will pay my personal spider hit man with sammiches and unlimited , uninhibited access to my vagina.
You sent me a picture of you licking the bottom of a shoe and the caption was "it tastes like shoe"
No more stories ab the wkend for co-workers... No one else found "and I didn't have pants on when I got home Saturday night" as funny as I did.
Can you technically cross something off your bucket list if you don't, per say, remember it....?
He was trying to talk to me about standards while he had a french fry box on his hand like a glove and was using it to flatten his cheeseburger.
The dick pic bandit just sent me a poem about showering..
I'm so hungover I can't taste anything
Correction: Jimmy johns. The one pita pit employee has been an asshole to me ever since you locked them out of the store
We just broke up and deleting his dick pics is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
He made me cum 3 times, then immediately after sex packed a bowl and passed it to me. Yeah.. I'll keep him.
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