ohhh my god. this party should be titled "my hookups of summers past" be expecting some good stories tomorrow
is it bad if i hope guys are like edward cullen and can read my mind. i could be a whore in disguise.
woke up on my stairs with half a hot dog beside me and the last text I sent was "i make hot dog in toasTer" .
You only ask me to come over when your gf is gone, and thats usually at midnight to cook chicken salad and watch you pass out
the ball fondling will be left out of the trip recanting
She's clinging to me like a horny koala.
she just blew up the empty bag of wine and used it as a floatation device.
Alright, text me when you get close. I've got a mustache and I'm ready to get my day drunk on.
So apparently nutella and chocolate body paint aren't actually the same thing.
We're like a dynamic duo.
Bisexual and Proud, Lesbian and Loud.
I really wanna just be like, can you just eat me out and stop whining
I think that would solve a million problems
I don't know what happened. His phone, shirt, shoes, and the condom wrapper are here but he isn't. I don't even know how to get a hold of him right now
You've never really lived until you tell someone you have an STD over snap chat.
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
i wasnt sure i had a crush on her until i woke up this morning and saw i had googled fifteen variations of "lesbian marriage in estonia". where the fuck is estonia
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