Hotel room at 3 am. She's 42. Stockings and heels. All because I opened with a joke about cougar hunting. We'll high-five later.
If this place produced love children they would be born wearing Lilly Pullitzer with raging coke addictions.
I fucked her on my hockey bag. it doesnt get any more Canadian than that.
Im so hungover that my 6 year old cousine made me aspirine and coffee out of playdoh...
I am telling you that nothing wakes you up like stomach acid exiting your nostrils at 10AM
I'm questioning the dried chocolate syrup on my tits.
nothing like baby laughter to ruin a masturbation moment
.It's like gods test of willpower against vaginal comfort
I am the Angelina Jolie to his Billy Bob Thorton. We just don't work.
His dog ate the vibrator. The WHOLE vibrator. We spend the morning after trying to make it vomit up the battery. Why does this always happen to me?
Everytime I feel sad about the break up; I recall that she is a Bernie supporter and feel all better
Just googled myself and a bunch of boob shots of me came up. Apparently my phone automatically uploaded them to my google plus.
Please google me ASAP and ensure I corrected this...
Its that time in the evening when I've had a few cocktails and wish you'd make a video about the packers and Jack Daniels.
Shame - the story of my life.
My roommate just angrily told the cat he should have knocked, but that's not lockdown madness. They're always like that.
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