So I think I just got a job offer from the guy I used to blow. See, networking pays off.
she's a gynecology student. i don't know if my dick's ready for that kind of pressure.
Definitely just said "no homo" to our gay waiter at Cheesecake Factory...our service has steadily declined since.
I've watched enough of my roommate's imported Japanese satellite to know when the exchange students are calling me a whore.
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I was dancing with a blow torch in one hand and a bowl of weed in the other
I have no idea how but i got a hold of a blue food dye packet. And proceeded to rub it all over my tits. So yeah i'd say its safe to say i'll be known as smurfette for a while
she walked in on me throwing up in the sink with my pants around my ankles and I said "i'll be with you in a sec"
After last night, I think I need a service animal to monitor the life choices I make when I'm inebriated. A monkey, or a clever dog. Or a really assertive parrot.
Why did I wake up with BYOB sharpied on my stomach
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I still don't understand if he's using me to write his resume or if we're dating
Does she know she is talking to people who slam shots of fireball and chase it with vodka?
All I could think about while we were fucking was what Hogwarts house he would be in
You know your late night booty call was a huge fail when you go back to your car after it's over, and it's still warm.
And a hot pocket after we fucked. Heaven.
OH DEAR GOD IT GOT IN MY MOUTH AGAIN HELP
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