Arguably, the best part was cockblocking those squirrels.
I smuggled my gin and tonic out of the bar by shoving the glass in my pocket...mistakes were inevitable.
You started laughing mid-cry and when I asked you said, "my tears taste like vodka."
I was in a house full of lesbians and they were all staring at me. I felt like the last cresent roll on Thanksgiving.
So our 'date' consisted of getting drunk off champagne at four and photo-bombing the shit out of tourist's pictures all over the city. Thoughts?
We finally have the house to ourselves and your out playing Lance Fucking Armstrong
He's trying to marry me, when is the appropriate time to tell him my real name and that Dallas is a completely fictitious slutty alter ego? I need the advice of someone with morals.
your vagina must have magic restorative powers I feel rested and powerful this morning.
I'm so hungover it hurts to blink.. oh sweet merciful Christ what have I done
I really care about you, but im still gonna have to make you pay for dinner from the pain and suffering in my knees and vagina.
Whenever I'm not in the mood and don't want to go to bed swampy, I just strategically suck him off during the second period intermission of the Cup playoffs and he leaves me alone and does the dishes. It's a win-win.
He's so urbane and sleek; so aesthetically chiseled, having endless features to offer me whenever I desire.
Are you fucking a guy or a condo building?
We also had rum, but now that's all gone. Which I feel is appropriate for a pirate party.
I walked in describing her boobs thinking I was talking to you only to hear dad say 'I remember when your moms were like that'. ALWAYS tell me when they get home early. Always
all I know is that I was naked, and there were cheeto puffs everywhere...
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