its not stalking. its research.
I'm upset that MJ died and all but waking up to his face on my HDTV in the middle of the night while half-asleep is pretty much the scariest fucking thing ever.
I'm terrified to sleep next to her. Of course the sex will be fuckng awesome.
I was too drunk to read the menu, let alone her body language.
He told me the hand job I gave him this morning was "lovely".
He somehow managed to accomplish karate kicking a door down, cockblocking my friend in the room, and writing "tits" all over the house with a blue sharpie.
I got kicked out because I puked again I'm on the fire truck outside
For future reference, Twizzlers CAN leave welts.
If I give you a key to my place you have to promise to one day wake me up with a blowjob.
And by one day I mean once every two weeks.
We need a bunch of roses, some chocolate, 2 cops, a mariachi band, and a thermometer
lonely sunday drunk me decided to tweeze my pubes. HORRIBLE IDEA
He was dressed as the 420 Easter bunny...he looked like a walking anti-drug campaign.
I gave him a BJ and he left. Coincidentally that's the name of my memoir.
I was too lazy to get my chapstick out of my purse so i lubed up my lips with pizza grease. On a scale of 1-10 how embarassed should i be?
She sent a group text pic called "Assemble" of his dick next to her forearm.
I'm down.
Randomize
