we got back to my place and he started talking about feelings. i politely told him to leave and that he managed to cock block himself.
neither the pictures you took nor my hangover explain why there are skittles in my shoe
Is it bad that I was more upset about not getting the perfume he told me he had bought for me then the actual breakup?
If the egyptians can build pryamids men can walk on the moon and ron jeremy can sleep with all those bitches then we can finish these three handles of vodka
He's gotta be able to drive a truck, make me mac n cheese and give me the best orgasms. That's my perfect man
I'm in that weird half-dead, half fucked-simultaneously-in-every-orifice-by-a-bus-and-it-wasn't-a-good-time state.
Dude. My cat just tried to bat the tampon string hanging from body. NOT COOL, SEYMOUR. NOT COOL.
Only at Harvard can you walk in on a bunch of stoners and expect everyone to immediately stand up, shake your hand and introduce themselves like we're at a fucking job fair
I got head this morning from the 31-year-old version of Jenn. It was like a blow job from the future while a simultaneous blast from the past for 10 minutes.
A man just squeezed past me in a tight space and said, "Excuse us."
And it was in that moment when I realized that these high schoolers looked up to me and that I should set a good example. So I stole a casserole and left.
In my top drawer right now, there are see's chocolates, condoms, weed, and my vibrator. One way or another, this is going to be a good night
I am mentally ready for anal.
It's a combination of amazing uncoordination, bad luck, and sheer determination to cause destruction wherever I go.
I got confused. The music was loud, porn was playing, people were grinding, there were hand jobs.
Randomize
