another moral hangover. fuck.
She helped me organize my comics and then blew me. This is the one.
I thought he was kidding when he said pretend to be a dunkin donut delivery women. This is the last time I ever role play.
I can't be held responsible for my own vagina. Let's just be honest here.
I hijacked a bellboy cart and rolled into the party dancing on it
Stripper pole. Sore legs. More vaca money.
Somehow me not being able to breathe due to cocaine doesn't seem very domesticated.
I find it worrying that she bit me in bed. Then proceeded to write her name in bite marks. All without ever losing the rhythm of our fucking.
I would pay to watch a Bravo special of you getting Botox.
And as the acid sets in, he looks back at the shallow form he used to call his and whispers "3 pee pees strong"
I don't remember his name. I had whataburger on my mind and in my hands so I wasnt really listening
His exact words: "I don't have anything you can't treat with antibiotics."
I have two choices: tits or tacos. I just can't decide.
I've realized that drinking at your apartment alone on a Tuesday probably isn't a good thing.
I'm completely creeped out. He's dressed as me. And thinks it's funny.
Randomize
