I'm at subway, this 8 year old kid is judging my fashion sense with his dad. I want to kill myself.
It's ok, he's just 8, he's not judging you.
He just asked why I'm sitting alone. I honestly want to cry.
Sometimes I forget to take my socks off when I masturbate. This always makes me feel like I'm accidentally in a porn.
Im already sauced. Have been for hours. Its kinda my thing.
Just saw a maroon grand am stop on my street, the driver opened the door, vomited, and then drove away like nothing happened. Been there, done that.
On my arm I have 12 dashes, and below is written "plus 2 pretty stout whiskey drinks, so, you be the judge"
why is my clorox wipe dispenser full of tortillas?
Frozen pudding on a popsicle stick. Bill Cosby would be so proud of drunk me.
Every man needs a table where they can sit and reflect on the successful penile conquests of the day.
This is worse then when all the pharmacists sang me happy birthday while I was buying plan b
I wish buying curtains was as easy as buying drugs. I already KNOW what I want and what the outcome will be: awesome.
Bring a bathing suit and your good liver.
My good liver is still at the dry cleaners. Will my backup liver suffice?
Maybe
I think the saddest part about my sex life is that most of it is pity sex.
He's a fucking asshole. Who gives good head. And seriously I have never seen someone less committed to hair color
I told him about the time I blacked out and shit myself and he still wanted to have sex with me that night. Feeling pretty optimistic about where this fling is going.
My mute roommate is using sign language to ask a guy to fuck her.
Randomize