I wonder who the first pervert was, and if he would be proud of me for advancing his art form by so much
at russian wedding, no open bar. bottles of vodka at table. getting to work tomorrow may be an issue.
All I learned from that experience was that drinking scotch out of a crunk goblet was bad news.
Please tell me you're throwing the cats into this foot of snow.
I left you pizza on the porch. I didn't want to wake you, if you were passed out on the bathroom floor again. Sorry if it's cold.
You just kept yelling, "THAT'S THE POWER OF PINESOL, BABY!"
Of course drinkings involved. They don't call it alcoholism because we eat too many skittles.
I'm just going to text him the word sex repeatedly until he comes over.
Did it work?
Duh, it only took 27 texts and 15 minutes and he was at my front door.
DRAW HIM A PICTURE OF SOME FUCING AWESOME THING. LIKE A UNICORN OR SOME SHIT. FANTASTIC.
Regret, thy taste is box wine.
I'm spending my Sunday wishing the entire Patriots offense would let me touch their manhood
Who the fuck watches Jessica jones and thinks I need to call a past fling?
You told me you were going to invite all of your Tinder matches to the same bar on the same night and make them compete for your affection in a series of Lust Olympics. Winner gets laid.
Hate my fucking roommates.... Seriously, who the FUCK peels potatoes in the bathroom sink?!
After we finish having sex, he smokes an honest to God pipe. It's like fucking a big, sexy Sherlock Holmes...
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