So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
I told my mom I had sex with him and even SHE was proud. Now that's saying something.
There is so much to learn about oneself from autofill.
I'm sorry about your car but on a brighter note I did wake up in my dorm. That's something right?
Fuck you.
I came home drunk to my night light on and a Hershey's bar on my bed. Mom knows me too well.
I made this pact with my vagina, though. No more heartless fuckery.
I just wanna go somewhere and not be judged for wearing spandex shorts that make my ass look like a slice of fucking heaven. Is that so much to ask??
He told me I was 100% better then porn then passed out nto the cake
Dude. My knees have no hair on them and they're bruised. My thigh is killing me. I have about 1000 texts to about 5 exes which I horribly regret. I have pictures of my own penis on my phone. I can't find my iPad. And I have work in an hour.
Sorry you had to clean the sheets with your macro notes
I sense naked hashbrown eating in my near future.
It feels so wrong having a picture of my tits next to a picture of my daughter.
I will take a ruler to your dick so help me god
I was randomly pulled aside to have my bag checked. It had 50 condoms in it.
The logic in me says "don't text him" .But the vagina in me says "text him".
Randomize
