So I just opened the bag you gave me and those panties aren't mine...
oh
My lack of memory is directly related to being friends with you.
how bad would it be if i made his twitter my home page?
My booty call got married. Come over before I start tagging all the places my dick has been in her wedding photos.
My relaxing drive may end up as a surprise bootycall in Pittsburgh. Don't try to stop me.
There's a mouse. In the house. By the cans. With some pans. Release the cat. To eat his hat. Sorry about the mess. Of my breakfest.
No but seriously, there's a fucking mouse in the house by the beer cans
Well there's nothing more unattractive them a naked, soft man crying
Oh good your over him
It hurts to hear and I can smell shapes.
The number of mornings I actually have to say out loud to myself "you must put pants on and go to work" to get motivated is...troubling.
Oh I see how it is...you can snap chat the world your balls but I wear dinosaur feetie pajamas and I'm the "weird one"
I feel like I got hit by a truck. And I vaguely remember getting into an argument with a passive aggressive Ron Burgundy in a onesie- grown man, not a baby- about the pronunciation of New Orleans
Her mom came in and passed out drunk on the floor next to us while she was riding me, "it's all good, she does this all the time" is what she said
that moment you remember partying with someone several years ago.. and don't remember if you slept with them or not.
He wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him on the ass. Which, btw, I did.
Apparently his ex was into edging and did it to him so much that it takes forever for him to cum
I hate you and your multiple orgasm sexcapades
Randomize
