I was born in the year of the cock... How fitting.
You were offering to spell people's name for a dollar.
i promise the blood crusted on your tits is from him motorboating you after he tripped into the pool stick. nothing else.
Not much, just your average college male Sunday cleaning period blood out of the carpet.
Tell me you're kidding.
Besides scarred, I'm not much of anything right now.
I haven't found him passed out in the living room covered in noodles for a while now so I guess he's getting better with the drinking.
And then we made hashbrowns with vodka and queso.
You don't care if I shave my legs, but you insist I be conscious for sex. Whatever. I really think your priorities are out of whack.
Will it make you feel better if we wear the title of dysfunctional fucking roommates? It requires monogamy unless we want to bang someone together.
"Wine night with the girls" turned into me having to set an alarm in the bathtub this morning...
Last night turned out to be an expensive trip to your house between the ticket and the plan b. (Well I haven't gotten that yet)
Nothing too major over here lately. Just had a date with an ex-internet porn star turned lawyer. He said: "at my 3rd burning man I taught a workshop on BDSM" and I knew it was going to be a fun night.
I need to just embrace dildos and cats and call it a life.
So you're mad that I let you go home with the guy with soft hands but yet you can't understand that I was just trying to help you
He'd never survive you. Is there a boot camp for pre-heather training?
God... We're terrible. I'm so proud of us.
I know! It makes me feel all warm inside. Or maybe that's just me getting closer to hell.
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