I'm at his house. He has VELCRO shoes. I'm too desperate to leave...I may need help in thee life dept
he saw my emergency pass-out-in-the-bathroom-after-drunken-puking cot in the bathroom.
Lets start the night off early. Those Coronas arent going to throw themselves up.
You wrote me a letter and I cannot make out anything you wrote except the last sentence which says "tell the wolf ill meet him at sunset and that I'm sorrry"
You are the only person I know that goes to a bar enough to charge your iPhone there....
You threw up on yourself, then proceeded to tell us "to not make a mess in your car"
I can't even type what I drank. I'll throw up
He kept humping my leg and whispering "dont worry, thats my phone not my penis"
He said I act like a cross between a kindergartener and a high 70 year old man. Which is inacurate because it fails to account for the disco obsession.
Oh my god he's laying on a longboard singing the song from cool runnings.
I wore home his HoHoHo boxers. I've never felt such a connection to an article of clothing.
I told him I was going to sit on his face after I got out of the shower, he threw up the arm boners and yelled "STEVE HOLT!!" I might actually stop sleeping with other dudes.
His favorite stripper is going to jail. He's taking it pretty hard
I'm either hallucinating or there is a dying cat outside my apartment....
The bouncer just called me magically delicious... apparently I'm a lucky charm. hollllleeeerrrr!
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