I feel like our house is getting pulled over.
He set 8 alarms to make sure I took my birth control on time..
I'm sitting by myself in my bra eating a waffle and drinking pineapple rum. gamedaaaayyyyyyy
He just came in my nostril. Never look down when a guy is pulling out during missionary.
It's not my fault. Someone keeps buying me tequila shots. Idk who. But every time I look down there's another. I think there's a conspiracy.
My liver is begging me not to go, but sadly enough for him my feet and hands control me getting there.
I'm driving up the street and can't tell if my ears are actually about to pop or not.
A solid 8.5 on the baked meter, I need to stop.
Her desktop wallpaper is a collage of penises she fucked.
Maybe he'll be famous someday and I can forget that anything embarrassing may have happened and just say that I fucked that famous guy.
My brain is like scrambled eggs. If scrambled eggs were trying to escape out of my skull through my forehead.
It felt like a sumo wrestler slapped me. With a wet hand. 8 times in a row.
It's true. There would need to be A LOT of data collection. Aka, dick-catching. I volunteer as tribute.
The hospital waiting room is starting to become a very familiar place to me.
Theres about 23 grilled cheese sandwiches stuck to my ceiling and tomato soup all over the kitchen. You are never allowed over again. Ever.
Look at us. Planning our business meeting. Including snacks like shrooms & trail mix.
Randomize
