This is some kinda fucked up sordid doggy brothel peepshow bullshit.
He was sitting on the bathroom floor, swirling his finger in the toilet singing the Laguna Beach theme song. I don't know whether to laugh or help him.
We talked about all of the sex positions that would better allow him to feed me grapes. I think I'm in love.
pouring popcorn down my shirt before we went to the bar was the best idea ever. it was delicious and convenient.
I'm sober in pajamas at a bar. Nothing is ok about that statement.
he's measuring my pool to see how much jello powder he needs. He got paid today.
I just had a flash of memory of me asking all of the girls if they were on their periods. If they said yes I said it made us moon sisters.
If by "in control" you mean him showing-up to work wasted, calling a customer a "fuckstick," and getting fired on the spot? Then yes, he is.
Nothing says "I mean business" like using a cart at the liquor store.
Just keep in mind that she didn't start telling you you had the largest penis she had ever seen until AFTER she found out about your multi-million-dollar trust fund.
So I just got drugs from a house with a giant cross on it. Thank you, Jesus.
I don't care who you bring as long as they are fun and not a cop
he's so sweet and its so cute. but I swear to fuck if I let my guard down and this was all a lie I am going to become a serial killer.
You just kinda wondered into the street and started screaming at dogs and small children...
Last thing googled on my laptop last night was vagina chaffing. What the fuck?
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