Last night we were drunk and talking about rude things, I mentioned felching and had to explain it to everyone. Everyone was disgusted and asked how I knew about such filth and I told them you told me. Don't get mad. Also a quck heads up, you might get gifts of straws at work,
you dont seem to understand my overwhelming need to watch space jam right now
I look like a poor person in the cast of Gay Oliver.
so I finished the entire bottle...next thing I know, it's 8 am and I wake up on the fucking beach in the low tide with a family standing about 30 feet from me just staring.
my mouth is as dry as a post-menopausal camel on antidepressant's vagina.
Exactly. Because my vagina can't be consoled with words. It requires a thicker form of communication
I gave you a lap dance in a bowling alley... And I was Fine?
The highlight of my night was when you proclaimed that the man standing next to you smelt like grape medicine...
I'm ready to sell my soul to the strip club tonight
turns out it took a Belgian couchsurfer dressed as Heisenberg to rock my world.
Current status: Finding an unwrapped portion of Subway sandwich in my purse at the pharmacy counter & picking pieces of tomato off my wallet while the pharmacist watches disdainfully.
Did you offer her some?
If only. Current status: Not that clever.
They think its so cute and admirable that I learned French. BITCH HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF GOOGLE TRANSLATE? sexting foreign bitches, there's an app for that
At this point, I'd date an ax murderer. So long as he doesn't cry all the time, have ED, or leave me with his unspayed cat. My list of requirements is becoming increasingly specific.
Serious question: is he hot or is my vagina just that barren?
CAPS.LOCK.AND.SPACEBAR.ARE.BROKEN.
Randomize
