You know the guy who poops at a party and then leaves and you go in, do your business, and come out and there are girls outside that think you pooped and no one talks to you? I'm the guy who poops before you go in, because I'm in a relationship and I hate you.
Can you please check on Jay? He just called and left a Backstreet Boys song on my voicemail. Either it's 1998, or someone needs to go back to rehab.
We shared that special kind of eye contact that can only be experienced when you know one party is saying "Oh god, I fucked him in the back seat when you were in the front, didn't I."
I had to sleep with my math professor to pass algebra. Apparently my blowjobs are only C+ quality
I don't think blacking out in class is a good idea. But I'm game
Weed smoke burps in the boss's face. Job security.
He's got a pretty small dick but he's a total sweetheart. I'm gonna buy a new dildo and just deal with it.
Seriously, I was a high class hooker. I was snorting shit Rachel, white powder, lines formed with credit cards, the dudes house was beautiful. Magnum condom. Adorable puppy dog. Pretty sure at some point I was sleeping on a washing machine. Boxing Gloves.
Those were the highlights of my night.
How was the party last night?
There's a mountain bike in the middle of our apartment. No one will claim it.
I shame-fucked to Hotel California, don't tell me about priorities.
As sure as my left ball is bigger then my right. We will have our moment.
MY BRAIN IS OSCILLATING. DOES THAT EVEN MAKE SENSE
Currently at a fetish club with a set of swings (don't ask). Having flashbacks to the park by my house
He balanced a treat on his nose, and then he rolled me a joint. My bf is the best pet ever.
Shit on my own feet while puking from my hangover. Is this what 33 is supposed to be like?
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