Nevermine. I'm just going to tell you on Myspace with a glitter graphic.
Scared. last time someone tried to talk me into they said it tastes like tapioca and i projectiled onto a closed window
It all came flooding back to me: there was a woman with one hand
worst hand job ever. my dick is about as raw as that sushi your mom wanted me to try.
my tits taste like a pina colada. how often do you get to say that?
We have sex, then he cooks. It's like a fantasy.
He got drunk and insisted on licking my eyeball and called it a test of my trust in him.
There is a mirror in the headboard of the bed that I'm sleeping in so I can immediately question life choices when I wake up.
I'm not making any promises. But if I start throwing food at you, just go with it.
So I just chugged the rest of the wine in my mug so I would have something to eat my corn flakes in. With a plastic fork. I need a dishwasher
And maybe a life coach?
Come back I feel like I ticking time bomb of
of drugs
I figure even if it starts out as just sex I can bang him into loving me
We can't go out this weekend. My uterus is so desperate it's given me permanent beer goggles
this morning's inventory: a top hat, two empty bottles of everclear, half a slim jim, cigars, tiara, pot necklace, and some fishnets. and that's just my purse.
So apparently I fell asleep sitting on the toilet last night while my drunk girlfriend sang to me.
Randomize
