john hughes is dead. crushing any and all dreams of me ever being in an 80's john hughes film. bummer.
there are certain things about getting into a cab to go home at 630 am that make me feel like a prostitute.
you were passed out snoring, face down with all your clothes still on and 20 minutes later you sat up and said "FUCK YES" and then passed out again.
Let's make a pact to never get in a cab at 3am together unless it's to go home or for pizza.
I just realized. my grades aren't ready for st patties day...
STOP TELLING PEOPLE I PEED ON YOU
you crashed our wine night double date and sat on the floor eating cheese talking about how big his dick is.
I gotta shower this stuff off me I'm starting to hear baby kittens in the toilet tank again..
It'll just be like "PENIS HERE". In case you get lost.
No Robbie is the name of a kid or dog, not an adult man who's fucking you.
After a few mimosas, my mom started sharing her plans to move out of the house and into a retirement village so she can be the youngest one there and find herself a "nice old sugar daddy." Needless to say, break has not started off well...
I bought us both waterproof cases so we can sext through FaceTime in the shower.
Next. Level. Shit.
So everything was good he was big spoon I was little spoon and then I got peed on
Im wearing a bra. Made of paint.
Stop confusing me with every girl you know that doesn't like sex.
Randomize
