god damn woman. you are like the herpes of drunk texting. you never go away.
Umm ok I'm kinda freaked out right now bc the chick that lives next door is either having tantric sex or slowly suffocating her dog to death.
He told me to pick a safe word. I said 'cactus' and he said I wasn't taking this seriously and that I wasn't cut out for s&m.
The panties match.
I'll be right there.
It smelled like mall pretzels. Of course I investigated.
I'm imaging you naked, covered in butter. And I gotta say, I'm not impressed.
Just sayin. I pissed on his couch, and ruined his stove. If he's not mad, we're partying there every weekend...
From time to time I think I'm happy for a second and then I remember how a guy stopped me from giving him head on my birthday weekend.
4:37 am. You're wearing underwear and carpet skates. Borderline crying. You want to punch Morgan. Have not stopped singing Give Your Heart a Break.
If you want me to retract my crazy cat lady comments pictures of yourself dressed as a cat are not the way to do it.
Well, somebody (me) put on reindeer antlers, crawled around on the floor, and meowed at people... So yeah, I'd say it was "one of those nights"
Also, making a white Russian with butterscotch schnapps instead of vodka is probably the best decision I've made in my entire college career.
I just want to drink cheap wine and throw my bra at an aging singer songwriter
you asked the cab driver if he wanted to meet your parents, last night.
My liver is preforming stress tests.
Randomize
