My T9 Word has dryhumped saved but I can't even get it to figure out bbq.
He just randomly started talking about Haiti and Conan O'Brien and his grandpa's hip replacement operation. It was the worst phone sex I've ever had.
So, apparently, "i expected your penis to be bigger" isn't good pillow talk.
Either I'm spending too much time drinking or my perfume is starting to smell like a pineapple vodka.
Everything tastes like Lysol. Am I dying?
There are fucking limits. Jerking another guy off in the bar toes the line.
Well the "Blackout with your sack out" party turned out predictably.
You kept challenging people to a cartwheel contest...when someone finally agreed, you cartwheeled into some chicks face, then tried to propose to her as an apology. Fyi, she said no
I feel like I'm laying on a pillow cloud. With little baby angel fingers between me and the cloud lifting me up. Singing hymns in my ear.
You realize your sleeping pills are working when you pick up your iPhone and almost bite it because you thought it was a graham cracker
It was a fight. Me vs nature and drunkenness. And nature won. Big time.
Just got a Lifeproof case for Christmas so hold on and tell me how my shower nudes look
I'm still trying to figure out who shit on the coffee table. I have confirmed beyond a reasonable doubt that it wasn't me.
beach body workouts will consist of dancing and cocaine, and sugar free redbull
I did not shave my legs to sit at home and diddle myself. He better wake the fuck up and put the fear of god in me!
Randomize
