I'm at the cafe. It's 7am. There is a girl I don't know on my futon who tried to tickle me this morning when I got down from my loft. I also not wearing any underwear.
it's kind of nice to have a picture of me making out with someone and actually know who it is for once
look out your window.... he's holding his iphone up like a boombox playing you beach boys
He was like a Bill Nye the science guy of sex....he was telling me things about my clitoris that I didn't even know
Now she's making me sit here and look at pictures of guys she likes who look like bears. She's calling them her bear friends.
I bought a 9 dollar purse from payless so if I throw up in it tomorrow, no biggie.
$100 bras are my way of telling my boobs that I love and appreciate them, and all the metaphorical doors they have opened for me.
I just woke up in my ex-boyfriends bed, with my new boyfriends jersey on. I love March maddness.
My dick pics could make it to the popular page on Instagram.
Why do I have a vague memory of your entire fraternity climbing in through my bedroom window?
My google history for last night included "Whre is johns house" and "wher can i buy nukes?" Pretty sure they're related to one another.
As we were leaving a memorial service last night he turns to me and says, is it too soon for a post funeral blowie?
I ended up changing her contact in my phone to "O Great Potato".
Vagina status: the swelling is going down.
Oh, did your mom say anything else about my butt?
Randomize
