It must be a full moon weekend. All of my weird booty calls are coming out of the woodwork. I spent 40 minutes on the phone last night telling one why he is so creepy.
Oh please, I could turn a Vienna Boys Choir concert into a shit show
she's sitting on the other side of the room at this party. with her smirnoff tucked in that little opening between her cleavage and shirt. drinking from a straw. snapping her fingers off beat.
it's love
trying to line up a DD for St Pats Day. i guarantee i will put out. or puke and pass out. really its 50/50 at this point.
I keep reminding myself that my vagina isn't a homeless shelter.
drunk her ninja stole one of the pizzas as it arrived and hid all of the pieces in a cereal box in the fridge.Genius.
you were trying to convince me that you weren't drunk by grabbing my shoulders, looking deeply into my eyes and saying "i can see your sparkle"
I'd like to stay optimistic, but I have this nagging suspicion my penis is in for a disappointing holiday weekend.
And I just realized we will be at a strip club when the end of the world is supposed to happen. This is destiny
At one point, he came in to give her a pep talk, and then after he left, she just kept whispering his name into the toilet between heaves.
YOU KNOW BRAZILIAN BOYS ARE MY WEAKNESS
Walking into my bedroom & smelling stale sex & disappointment isn't how I envisioned being 39, in case you were wondering.
you know you're in deep when you watch fear and loathing in las vegas and every damn scene is relatable.
It's just really funny to hear them talk about March for Life when literally every single one of those girls has had an abortion
I know right? It's like he knows how to pleasure me better than I do myself... He's like a prophet of sex
Randomize
