I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
I just found out why they dont make table-dance tables out of glass.
all i need in life is blowjobs and white cheddar cheezits
Sign #1 that I'm not ready to be a mother: I'm shopping for "maternity fishnets".
you are not perverted enough for this relationship to work out.
My dick hurts from so many people grabbing it last night. We're not going back to that club
Also, if someone could cut me off before im rolling around the yard pantsless with a 40 year old lesbian that would be awesome.
I know, it's just the worst. Also, security almost took the burrito I brought for lunch. I thought I was going to have to pull a Liz Lemon and eat the whole thing before I could go through.
You don't even know. The entire marching band thinks I'm an alcoholic.
Her hookup left his underwear and shorts in the dorm last night... What he was wearing when he left, we may never know.
And all i could do was bury the part of me that felt guilty for cradle robbing and put on my dick swallowing bib.
I'm like a saiyan, every time I get trashed I come back stronger
It was ok until his mom walked in and asked if he turned on the crock-pot...
I may have just got motorboated by a male stripper who told me I should be a porn star and not a vet student.
So. Um. Hypothetically speaking...how would one get a squirrel out of the house?
Randomize
