Wow so 15 missed calls, a vm AND a text saying come downstairs? ...And where is downstairs? Explain.
The shirt is mine, the pants are mine, the bra not so much
DAMN! I hate it when i drunkenly erase all my "sent message" and wake up in the morning and my inbox is full of "WTF?" and "Huh?" messages.
Besides, I'm not in my 30's. I'm still allowed to drink wine from a bag.
He will not just "come" out of the closet. He will fall out, 69ing me, with two fingers in his starving asshole, wearing cum splattered lady gaga sunglasses, weeping.
That was the greatest thing i have ever read.
seriously considering responding to a craigslist ad for a lesbian cunninlingus instructor...at this point i'm so desperate for a job that i'm willing to switch teams.
I had this image of some guy in a taco truck down by the IMA accosting you for a peep show.
You were crying and singing wanted dead or alive while trying to eat cold soup, I think that pathetic is an understatement
Imagine getting a FB inbox "hey I found your ID on the floor of a bar can you send me a mugshot so I can get a second piece of ID made?"
We got a kitchen table so we would eat together more. So far we've played drunken monopoly and had sex on it.
Fuck edible panties there is a dress made out of bacon
And the sky opened up and god said.... "WET T-SHIRT CONTEST!!!!"
It was the highest I'd ever been. I felt like a blob. A blob eating a burrito.
He put his burrito in the bag with his dildo.
I can't imagine a friend I would rather lose my virginity to in a threesome.
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