I hate nights where "I found my underwear" can be considered a victory.
he just ordered a side of pineapple and winked at me. too much for a first date. come get me.
still drunk. talking shit to the doc drawing my blood. this has no upside
I had to convince you not to write "happy birthday to the first guy who fingered me" on his facebook wall, right above the post from his current girlfriend's mother.
He sent a pic, I sent one back. Then nothing. It's like we sext-messaged goodbye and ended the relationship.
So then you challenged the bartender to an arm wrestling contest for a free bottle of vodka
Sweet. Did I win?
Youre hungover arent you?
Well at least you learned that cops don't like when you call them frenchy. Nice dive over the fence by the way.
so far I've only met her once and hung out one other time. Up to 5 BJs already. That's serious efficiency.
According to you, you were with your "Eskimo bro for life" last night.
I don't really want to talk about it, but if anyone finds my unicorn mask with my bra in it, I would really like that back.
mid-october of freshman year. goals have shifted from "no more guys on my floor" to "all the guys on my floor."
I'm going to smell of sex and shame.
How is that different than any other Monday night?
So I wore my ankle step-counter exercise thingy while I rode him. Don't fuck him- I only burned .2 pounds.
I think we might need a safe word for this...
If you’re wondering why the bong is outside the garage door just know I was being environmentally efficient by not using the freezer to chill my shit
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