I dont remember anything after Tequila & Apple Juice. May have disovered the recipe for mental bleach.
the young, male pastor of my church has a jesus fish tramp-stamp. I made him show me.
I just got cut off for correcting the bartender's grammar. I should have never accepted that fucking editors position.
In case you were wondering, my scare crow is wearing your outfit from last night.
Apparently I promised a worker at La Siesta free English lessons to make up for vomming all over the little Mariachi band.
You didn't even properly utilize my pigtails.
We crashed a rave, threw glitter all over Gay Dan and the bartender, broke a chandelier and called ourselves the Kings of Neon.
At this point, just throw that mattresses away. Or bronze it and display it as a testament to your shame. either is good.
I pulled a muscle last night drunk dirty snapchatting him
Like real life can suck my metaphorical dick right now.
It's not too terrible. You just got a little naked and broke your arm.
I feel like David Hasselhoff when he's drunk eating that cheeseburger and crying. But with cheesecake.
Well, he hasn't actually seen me naked. Just my boobs... and the left side of my vagina.
Allow me to explain. Triple D is a surprise. It's like if you're expecting to fight one person, then you get ambushed by more. Except it's a good ambush, because it's boobs, not death.
He graduated. He’s not my GA anymore. He’s just the 24 year old that’s helping me put a sexless marriage in the rear view mirror by exploring the Kama sutra with me
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