hey i found one of your nipple clamps under my couch, i miss you!
I'm drinking carlo rossi straight from the jug. I don't have any clean cups...how am I still at this point in my life...
so, give him that "thank you for fighting for my freedom bj" & he wont even remember what you said in that six min voice mail.
You said your legs stopped working and then pulled yourself around the floor with your hands.
That explains the wood chips stuck in my nipples.
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They sent me to the hospital. Apparently, of the many things I said, I looked at the doctor and told him, "Wow... it's like you're a REAL DOCTOR!"
I BIT YOU IN THE DINING ROOM. I bit you and you crunched
Forgot to tell you--the bartender at Crowbar set his arm on fire last night. He was doing this "Cocktail" bartender trick of pouring alcohol that was on fire between glasses. Then some leaked out, onto his arm, and set his arm on fire, then his shirt. Exciting! (And he's ok).
I am the Angelina Jolie to his Billy Bob Thorton. We just don't work.
The chances of me making out with someone next weekend are about the same as me not remembering it.
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this weekend took five years off my life and what was left of my dignity
My hangover headache is somewhere in the Harry Potter scar neighborhood. I can now empathize with that poor bastard.
It was somewhere in between an airport security patdown and a medical examination. No groping or squeezing, just brief pokes and pats.
I have just received a gold-medal-deserving sext. He wrote me a fucking novel. Not only am I incredibly turned on but I am beyond impressed. He is the sext god. I must bow to him.
I was cock-blocked by a swat team last night.
I need an outfit that says "thanks for hiring me" but also says "i want dick in my mouth".
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