please tell me I'm in your upstairs bedroom. Just google mapped myself and I have no idea where I am.
we were holding hands throwing up into the same garbage can; if thats not true love i dont know what is .
He had a stripper pole in his bedroom. I didn't know whether to be impressed or creeped out.
you wouldn't come out from under your bed because you said there were six-armed bears everywhere.
ohhh that explains the pepperonis I found in my sock drawer this morning...
no it doesn't.
oh i have no idea about his personality. i imagine it's the same as it was- except now combined with a receding hairline and a beer gut
his mom and I have the same butterfly tramp stamp. don't ask how that came up
She started to rub her ass on my shoulder and i instantly thought "i am going to get E. Coli"
And for the fourth year in a row Christmas has ended in tears, yelling and me drinking. This is officially our longest running Christmas tradition.
I don't give a damn about what he wants to do with his life. Personalities are for pussies.
In the future, could you not call me 'bro' while we're having sex?
You yelled to anyone that tried to help you "I have a burrito, what else could a girl want?"
I can't tell if you're talking about my pussy or Cape Cod.
How many more of your relationships do I have to destroy before you realize sleeping with me isn't a good idea?
Okay but look at his jawline. I NEED TO RIDE IT.
I could have sworn that I went home last night... but judging from the couch I just woke up on, apparently not.
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