If I could text you the sound of me vomming, I would.
john hughes is dead. crushing any and all dreams of me ever being in an 80's john hughes film. bummer.
i'm crying at olive garden. i've hit rock bottom
i woke up with toilet paper straight tucked up in my underwear wearing a pizza sauce mustach. I dont think i got laid last night.
I just had a flashback of me saying "I'm not ready to be a deadbeat mom" lastnight.
he told me not to treat him like a child and then started peeing off the trampoline
My friend and I just coined a new term. OBJ. The obligatory blow job. You totally know what I'm talking about.
Like if he goes down on you first, or you just don't want to bone him yet. OBJ.
We sang "Whole New World" in harmony and he spun me around. You may now barf from the cuteness.
Safe to say I relapsed into my old chatroulette drunk flashing days.
It was like in the Christmas carol when the guy pulls his robe back and 2 small children appear... except this time it was a massive scrotum
I just twinged a muscle in my shoulder trying to hug myself. In the world of loneliness-based injuries, this is a new low for me.
You dove at him but passed out mid dive. Shame it wasnt a costume party your superman suit wouldve been clutch in the situation
Listen, I've got balls in my face can I call you back
we had to invent a new word for how drunk I was last night
You know, normal sex stuff involves shitting your pants. If you do it right.
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