It's just you. You wear the fuck me fedora and wear baller shorts, hollywood hippie who thinks she is shakira when she's drunk.
your dick doesn't do me any good in arizona
it's a shame restraining orders have to come between me and my relationships
So, it's like build-a-bear for your vag?
You asked the dj to play 'who let the dogs out" because it was your birthday. You left the bar and then re-entered to the song
I hope making "real" money at your "real" job is worth it because you totally missed beer and dorrito mac n cheese tuesday.
You do realize there's a subtle difference between not remembering your outfit from april 17th of last year vs forgetting that last night you undressed in the street and were grabbing every dick you could reach, right?
Do you remember ripping my condom off last night while yelling "I DEMAND MY MEAT RAW" like a Viking?
You also once spent an entire hour explaining the origin of the strip steak to me.
last thing I remember is yelling 'sit on my face' through a traffic cone
I'm going to sleep with this bank teller and I'm going to enjoy it, just try and stop me
I'm worried about your health. And your boobs. Actually, health, then boobs. Health first, boobs second. And third.
He caught a Pokemon on my head while I sucked him off. I think I need to marry him.
I thought you were dead but then you asked me if your tits looked good. They did.
Apparently stoned me thought eating chips in the shower was a good idea.
Randomize
