also, i may or may not be wearing a cape right now. hint: i am.
He went soft
Wait. During?
Yeah, he was IN. MY. MOUTH.
Harry Potter. Singing. Sobering up. In that order.
life is no where near the amusement park it was when I was on Vicodin.
Since you haven't talked to me since the rancid whipped cream fiasco, I'm going to assume we are no longer hooking up. But I need my handcuffs back. ASAP.
And next time please put a text between discussing my orgasms and discussing your son - that was weird.
I woke up with a fake mustache stuck to my chest and I can't even hold down water.
His fuck buddy just got fake tits and wants him to 'come break them in.' I need his life.
I think the multiple Sunday morning sirens outside my window are a plot by the cops to get back at me for the shit we pulled last night. Or I should move to a better area.
Well, if he didn't want to get caught mid-gay experience by his girlfriend, he shouldn't have pushed so hard to do MDMA with me.
its before 9am and ive already had to dip my dick and balls in a glass of milk. probably isnt a good sign for how today is going to go.
I think we've entered a low point in our relationship when I'm sending you pictures of pubic hair designs "because they're funny"
My doctor said I can only have one drink at a time, ever, from now on. My life has officially started its decline.
Walking into my bedroom & smelling stale sex & disappointment isn't how I envisioned being 39, in case you were wondering.
wheres my face? and why is my pocket so big?
Randomize
