New rule: no balls on the kitchen counter.
My Nuvaring birth control makes me queef.
And my awkwardness continues. I felt the need to send him a text that said roar. I did it.
I'm fucking an ugly guy. Don't come home.
well now I have to
I'm tangled in a fishing net down at the harbor. This has nothing to do with Captain Morgan. Bring wirecutters.
I have to stop drunkenly making out with guys just because they're tall or have a beard.
I need a therapist, but moreover we are going to be really drunk.
I know, I know. But we've discussed my friends and appropriate social behaviour, and I'm pretty sure topless karaoke was a no-no.
So I found out me and this guy I was drinking beer with tonight both got lactated on by the same stripper. We're milk brothers.
I got a blow torch for Christmas. You are now permitted to be afraid.
Like Is it appropriate to tell your boss you banged a guy in the back of a truck at a wedding? Probably not.
So I ate half a jar of mayo because I thought it would cure a hangover. I thought wrong.
Dude!! Who the fuck glued Cheetos to my couch? Bastards!!
I'm pretty sure even the managers want me to show up hungover my last day, it would be negligent and disrespectful to do otherwise
Optimism doesn't exist before 2pm nor do any other emotions.
Randomize
