So I finally got the Patron washed off my boobs.
He told me he's not in to anal. I need to marry him, ASAP.
Living room yoga. I'm too hungover to deal with anyone else's chi today.
Then you started screaming that this was the first time you did e and that you had a 4.8 gpa, that was right before you almost suffocated between that one girl's tits.
I've been smelling a baby wipe for three minutes. I didn't think I was that drunk but I guess I am
He gave me one look and told me I'm not allowed to board the plane if I'm still as drunk by departure time.
You came over, called every girl Comrade Heather, and then declared that you were an Eagle, and we were your young.
So all in all, a good night.
That's how you know it was a good night if two months later you finally realized your skirt never made it home and you found out where it was.
Jäger goes great with personal crises and receding morals...
Like I owe him sex. Hell fucking no. I owe myself sex. With a celebrity. Or a clean pornstar. Who knows.
As much as my throat was opened up this weekend, you'd think I wouldn't nearly choke on a damn almond.
He was cheering for me from the end of the bar as I sloppily ate a Ruben sandwich. It made me feel really special.
It's the never-ending clusterfuck that is my love life
I feel like I got run over by a steamroller made of cigarettes and booze driven by all of the men I've slept with.
We were drunk at 3am with no food. I sent him to the lobby with ninety cents for like a bag of chips and I swear on my life he came back with a meatball sub
...did you ask him where he got a meatball sub at 3:00am?
He just kept mumbling something about being a hunter/gatherer
Oh AND he got us two bags of chips.
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