I'm drinking on the job... HEAVILY
Ah, the precious few moments between when i wake up and when i realize why i'm sleeping on a treadmill.
We need to either drink and not go to waffle house or go to waffle house and not drink. I need to know which is causing these shits.
I really wish you were half the slut you're sister was in college
you cried when she wouldn't let you have her bathroom rug.
He tied my whole arm, in its cast, to the headboard first. He mumbled something about safe, sane, and consensual?
I put the extra pregnancy test in my sex toys box as a reminder that my actions have consequences.
We're going to shave my junk and take pictures of it wearing fake mustaches we found at the dollar store. They're uncannily realistic; much better than the cockstaches of my youth.
They need to leave so I can start drinking shamefully.
You asked me if I was judging you for being drunk, and if I can hypnotize you make sober.
He has blue eyes of sex and i am powerless against them
Doesn't tell me where my computer chair went but good to know
I FINALLY GET TO MASTURBATE. SO EXCITED.
I was walking out of the bar when he said I'll see you later and I said I'll see you in my dreams and then fell face first and broke my nose
Okay, maybe filling water balloons with vodka was not our best idea.
my nurturing instincts told me to take his clothes off
Randomize
