I'm like connect-the-dots of drunk. Whiskey, bourbon, vodka, rum, gin. The hidden picture is me faceplanting.
sweetheart all i remember is you throwing up and saying "i thought things would be better now that barack obama is president"
Let's get back to talking about you giving me a blow job.
I fell asleep to the sounds of them banging in the next room. It was oddly soothing...
they came at us with fireworks while we were skinny dipping in her jacuzzi at 4 am...
you yelled "who's job is it to keep me from breaking shit" and then immediately ripped off the molding as you fell down the stairs.
that's not even the weird part though. he already knew where the bathroom was, he might have been here before..
Im celebrating the fact that the one guy who has ever denied me has just come out of the closet
Guess who used an inflatable mattress to boat across a retention pond with brooms for oars and a radio and beer.
I HAVEN'T FUCKED ANYONE IN FOREVER AND A HALF I DON'T DESERVE TO BE A TRASHY BLONDE
Of course I fucked him. He's a professional beat boxer, his entire job is to do complicated shit with his tongue.
She's in it for that fear factor ya'll. Obsession and stalking or nothing.
I fucked the midget version of a backstreet boy and I am not mad about it
On a scale from 1 to 10 how gross is it to get a chili dog from a vending machine?
You took your shirt off at the bar, handed it to a girl, and made her wash your dirty shirt on your washboard abs
tuesdays get the best of me...
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