Trimmed my pubes and broke your paper shredder. Separate events.
my dad is drunk dialing our relatives who are stuck in a blizzard asking them to pick up sun tan lotion for him cause hes too drunk to drive to the store.
I closed that bar. Sang every Beatles song in the book. Made Somoan friends.
He just left me a message saying he left the rest of the weed for me. Did i just get paid for sex? And if yes did i just get paid in drugs?
eye of the tiger was playing while i pooped... it totally helped.
I didn't think I could chip a tooth while giving a blowjob until I met him.
its a long story involving jim bean, an owl, and a knife
remember last year when i left for the bar in flip flops and came back in heels?
it happened again.
its sad that I know 23 beers will fit into my purse
This was my thought process as I drunkenly ran home: Whoa! I'm going so FAST! Why don't I run EVERYWHERE! ALL THE TIME! Then I peed in a bush and passed out on the ground.
So basically you were a dog.
Turns out, his fucking is as lame and staggered as his NFL career.
He got kicked out 3 times. I have no idea how he kept getting back in. I saw him walking on the highway the next morning.
You think he will forgive me for the paper being a week late if I bring him a beer?
...it's a 9am class...
I need your opinion, is it ACTUALLY sweet that a booty call offered to walk me home with an umbrella because it was raining, or is that just low standards?
I woke up alone, naked in her bed staring at a lifesize poster of edward cullen,actually I'm lying I did have socks on
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