I want Jason Statham to talk British to my vagina.
All i learned in high school was how to sell drugs
I have to brush my teeth today to feel like I did something.
Dudes got a Polo tattoo. I don't care if he has a yacht I can't handle that level of gay.
My corndog is like a popsicle of bread. A WHOLE. POPSICLE. OF BREAD.
I'm fucked up. I can't drink anymore. We stole a cat.
And I really REALLY don't feel like cleaning cinnamon off my penis tonight.
My bra is still on the porch...I'm leaving it as a reminder to get my shit together.
I remember saying to him "Fun fact! If you lie this way it's easier to deep throat!" I even judge me.
it was good, but also weird. like, i came four times and then cried weird.
It'd probably just be a lot of profanity and hyperventilation and deteriorating into tears anyways
so just a regular conversation then
I just heard myself say the sentence "I'm gonna go to the bank then take a nap". 8 year old me just slapped my present self through the space-time continuum for being an old fuck.
My old dealer would be proud of the drug cocktail I just took for my back pain.
As planned I took it to the limit. Then we met a new limit. Now they are limit friends.
I buy a new bowl every time I get a new guy. It's retail therapy.
Randomize
