I am the drunkest girl in the tree.
You should ask if we are margaritasing tomorrow. and yes i did just turn that into a verb
the whole story woulnd't be so depressing if i had made out with ANYONE but the piano player.
Well... He is a good looking man underneath all the fat and muff.
I don't think I even want to know why you are sending my husband pictures of your nutsack.
I drunkenly called my ex on Skype last night and didn't talk, just smiled real big at him until I fell asleep.
I've decided he is effectively a mouth, hands and cock held together by bad ideas and compliments, and I'm OK with that.
I started rolling down the window so he pulled into a gas station and i puked all over the side of the car while some dude stared at me. I waved and we drove away
I couldn't do it. You can't break up after that many orgasms. It's physically impossible.
and the oscar for 'most creative swearing' goes to you for 'jesus's bloody fucksticks'
I mean obviously I like your dick... Jury is still out on you but your dick is good
Jesus christ. I put you on speaker when you called me last night and you told me to brush my teeth with a dick.
All I have are vague memories of us eating ham?
this is gentle reminder #1 not to forget to bring the vibrator when you come
Note to self: never fuck a Canadian, surprisingly highly disappointing
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