Those strippers last night smelled great. It was the perfect mixture of vanilla and daddy issues.
she pooed on me. she actually pooed on me.
Not enough clothes on. Not enough vagina. Not enough drugs in my body.
I'm not sure if it was sex or spear fishing. He goes in for it like he's crash landing a rocket
Were playing beruit winners pelt losers with eggs
Partial kegs from last night are currently in my bathtub, which leads me to 2 questions: 1. What are you doing tonight? 2. Can I use your shower?
I dont have any paper so I'm writing class notes on my first response direction pregnancy paper. Judging eyes are all around.
when i got home she was standing in my front yard not wearing a shirt and halfway crying/ halfway laughing
I stared at him for a solid five minutes because he looked like what I imagine god would look like if god was a lumberjack
Don't shower too much, need the shame to be fresh to get the best story
I've spent my afternoon dipping strawberries in DayQuil if that's any indication of where I'm at in life.
My greatest accomplishment today was eating a box of Thai food the size of a toddler.
When Ben was deep throating pickles last night I actually reconsidered our relationship
My booty call is in the theater watching Deadpool right now. Never though comics would work against me.
I don't care if he's the coolest coworker, if he's living in his mom's basement at 30 you should not buy drugs from him
Randomize
