Decided to write a book called "girls don't poop and other myths I wish I still believed in"
I don't know what happened last night but I woke up this morning with "wolf pack" tattooed on my knuckles.
I mean we havent seen each other since december and then bam its cinco de mayo and were having sex under a life guard tower taking tequila shots between each position. no big deal
you're the best thing to happen to me. closely followed by learning to ejaculate, and drugs.
My third nipple is alarmingly under-appreciated.
I just got this text "hi this is Julie, I met you last night in the bathroom. You asked me to text you and remind you that you ate an entire lime, because you figured your sober self in the morning would be confused."
Ok that kid was ether gay or 12 with a beard.
Hey, I can't find my bed frame. Do you know who took it?
I'm laying here in fetal position. I feel like a traffic cone
like teasing for 28 minutes, then the very last 2 minutes is where is ALL goes down. I'm talking, rings off, stable sitting position, hand job madness.
Talking to her is like watching "Bad Life Choices: The Movie"
I sent you a snap of me in the bath, and you sent me a snap of a taco. An actual taco.
Please don't call my dad a fuckpuppet, I feel like that would be awkward to explain later.
You slept on a pillow of digiorno
My mom is worried I'm not eating enough protein so she's sending me 48 cans of tuna. That's not a typo.
Randomize
