I'll let you put expensive food in me, but really, not much else.
i should write a book entitled 'the joys of being sexually objectified'
I guess you don't remember pouring tequila in the dog bowl and slurping it.
well at that point we were just fucking to keep warm.
My mom is purposely blasting Shania Twain downstairs so I can't jack off.
He somehow managed to accomplish karate kicking a door down, cockblocking my friend in the room, and writing "tits" all over the house with a blue sharpie.
It's one of those mornings when I woke up thinking that i really shouldn't have hooked up with my ex boyfriend's girlfriend just to prove a point.
She is sending me pics of her sex faces...which totally counts as sexting in my book
I saw a picture of my dad holding my legs in a kegstand. Town festival=success.
Gotta get dat. Gotta get dat. Gotta get dat dat dat dat dat ~uterus contraction~
You know you were way drunk when you wake up at 7 AM halfway on a couch, tangled in a sheet with your shoes still on.
Sorry I yelled at you and called you Amish and puked on your eggs
that is our friendship pylon, do not lose it
fuck you.
DO NOT LOSE IT
It is like...the most transformative hard on I have ever had.
I woke up in a warehouse with the words “Property of Adam” written on my chest in frosting.
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