Is it just me or was there some better purpose for latex than what was a wonderful hole-in-the-wall bar experience? At some point, after you have had your 6th or 7th Jager Bomb and are now sweating the stuff out since you can’t breathe with that much latex holding in the extra dinner rolls, you might think to have a glass of water because I surely am not going to pick your big ass up off the floor.
Some bad version of a slip and slide. Then there was the crash and burn… after asking my friend is she would unzip the back of your top so you could air out and let the rest of us not enjoy the new folds in your life, but also something to the effect of a giant beach ball of an ass – a really scary one I hope never to see sold in the pool-fun aisle. Also, the wonderful scent that latex and Jager give off by 2 a.m. Dear latex people, please don’t ever do this to me again.
Though, thank you alcohol for making this, and everything worthwile, possible.
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