It made me feel like I need a reality show of my life so I could go back and watch the episodes to figure out how I got from the trunk of the car to my neighbors tree house...
if only i could text you this smell
So, halfway through sex he stops and starts crying. He said he's worried god hates him for all his bad decisions...think he meant to imply I was one of them...
It's tuesday, which means cocktails followed by cocktales.
Both his mom and his sister were hitting on me when I stopped by today. He isn't a real friend anyway, right?
I am not even close to finishing violently masturbating over that video.
Watermelon juice. Makes everything better. Gin. Wine. EVERYTHING.
Yeah but then I feel like it's worth it like bro you just stabbed me the least you can do is get me a fuckin otter pop.
Liquor doesn't fix sad, but it sure as hell lowers my standards for a rebound.
So what kind of fun pills do we have for the amusement park tomorrow?
He sent me a snapchat of him singing wrecking ball. Guess what the wrecking ball was. Hint: he literally came.
I've been to his house multiple times since that night and I STILL can't find my bra. And he says the hot tub ate my thong.
Don't be the guy that has his dick out at work.
I blew past the Governor's motorcade going twice the speed limit and DIDN'T get a ticket. God wants me to get laid.
My favorite bra is missing and I smell like beer and bad decisions. This is definitely a sign that hoe mode is activated.
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