I don't remember her name, but I do remember yelling at her from the balcony of the hotel room during her walk of shame.
He ate me out and then left in a hurry and shouted "Sorry to dine and dash" as he left my house
just spent $80 on an im sorry breakfast from mcdonalds for everyone sleeping in my apartment for being a drunkass and locking everyone out of the apartment at 2am.
his dad came out and found me sleeping indian style on the couch with my cup balancing on my boobs. didn't spill a drop.
He only talks to me during the summer and it's probably because I let him fuck me in my pool last year.
When you consider the sheer number of events that had to occur in order to prevent me from fucking her, there must be a god
I've never felt so epic in my entire life as I do right now, my bare testicles staring down the ocean itself
I swear to God, if you drunkenly correct my grammar one more time, I'm cutting you off.
I've been drinking vodka for the last 12 hours at the beach and can't see straight and have awesome hair.
LIFE IS #1 SOMETIMES
Well, it's a fine line between people-watching and boob-staring. It's a gray area. But we're in Paris. Let's leave it at that.
I'm taking a dab in mourning of how long its been since I smoked with you guys.
For the record, rock bottom is where you start crying during porn because your ex used to slap your ass like that.. Continue on with your day now.
I just want to drink cheap wine and throw my bra at an aging singer songwriter
Let's drink tonight I promise I'll make it out of the house
It's 1:37. You have 23 minutes to get your dick to the bar before I go home with the bartender... tick... tick...
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