i'm at the point now where i want him to say anything. even an apology for his boomerang-shaped penis would be nicer than no comment.
In retrospect - making it rain salt all over our kitchen was not one of my best ideas.
I've broken several federal laws in the name of sex.
I was actually high enough at that point that I was just casually following your glowing footsteps like in Avatar while we ran from the cops.
Just filled the brita up in the bathtub because we couldn't get it into the sink.
Something's wrong. My throat is definitely not in it's normal spot. Way too low.
BRILLIANT IDEA: In honor of summer olympics we need to start a synchronized drinking team.
The sound of my own breathing is making my head throb. That hungover.
You're a five foot adderall and caffeine fueled ball of sexual frustration and suppressed rage. It's only a matter of time before you snap. We're taking bets on when.
It was marvelous. I was drunkenly conversing with my professor in some of the best Spanish I've ever spoken.
MILK DIDN'T HELP. IT'S NOT HELPING
I have a hunchback of notre dame journal from when I was 6 wherein sits a diary entry that reads "saw liar liar today. Carrey's best yet" and that's all.
I'm currently drunk proofing my room
It baffles me why I still wear white underwear...
I’m going to give his broken heart CPR with my vagina
Randomize
