So we were banging and she started puking all over my bed. I'm not sure what's worse, her puking, or that I felt the urge to start singing Flip-adelphia.
Using the salt from a pretzel bag for tequila shots. Come over.
Fair warning: We've transformed the living room into a giant tent.
Nobody is here, I still yelled for someone to make me some toast. That my dear is commitment to doing nothing.
I woke up in a trash can. Please dude. I don't know what I did to you last night, but I'm sorry. Epically sorry. Please call me back. Please.
So I feel like I should have had a going away party for your dick. Complete with balloons and cake. Yeahh that's right. I'm gonna miss it.
It's like that thing with the devil and the angel except one shoulder has orgasms and the other has stuffed crust pizza and depression.
Seriously I'm dying. All my insides are fighting their way out of me. With light sabers and machetes.
I just got nudes while talking in the third person. Not sure if I Should be proud or ashamed.
I texted him a series of texts in which the first letters of each text spelled out "WE SHOULD HAVE SEX". If that's not dedication to the dick, I don't know what is
I was figuring I'd break up with her after work, but before Taco Tuesday
I accused him of not drinking enough alcohol and eating tacos after midnight. I was sober and he's not a gremlin. I would say bad.
I might go bald with this hair pulling thing every night.
Maybe if you would fuck your boss you would get string cheese too
dude I fucking saw you snort tequila
Randomize
