can't come. weird drunk guy passed out on couch. long story, tell u later.
wtf. wake him up, call him a cab, get over here!
i just want to make sure he doesn't die. or rob me. plus it's facinating, he's faceplant on the arm of my sofa.
Turns out drinking large amounts of Gentleman Jack does NOT turn you into a Gentleman -- quite the opposite actually.
Dont you think its a little early in the relationship for sexting?
It's sad that your definition of adulthood entails banging your boss after getting hammered at happy hour, and putting the tab on the company credit card.
I will give you all my nachos to make this happen
And you were like "stop making pop tarts, lil bowow" as you grabbed the pop tarts from your ex and consumed them. Teach me your ways.
YOU WOULD BE SEEING ME. IN MY KITCHEN. BENDING OVER MY OVEN. MAKING YOU CAKE.
Wait, that's an option?
I can already tell, the amount of fun I'm having right now is not nearly going to compensate for the amount of "let us never speak of this again" I'm gonna have tomorrow
I ate icecream cake off your tits for my birthday, if that's not love I don't know what is.
My tongue is raw from licking all that salt with my tequila shots...happy cinco de mayo
I want to be "performing a disservice to society by actually wearing clothes in public" hot.
Also, don't forget your plan to die young at a shrooms-fueled orgy.
I need you there. I need someone to glance at when other people inevitably annoy me.
... drunk me broke the coffee table?
STOP TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF IN THE THIRD PERSON. YOU DID THE THING.
YOU UNCULTURED BADGER
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