This is why I'm not putting my name in lights over your bed.
There's been so much talk around your vagina it's like a local celebrity
you yelled "who's job is it to keep me from breaking shit" and then immediately ripped off the molding as you fell down the stairs.
Ok that kid was ether gay or 12 with a beard.
I feel like if Miami and New Jersey fucked each other and produced a baby that would summarize the bar I'm in.
Apparently I've been blackout drunk doing abstract algebra on the floor
I knew it was on when he was dancing on stage and I gave him a dollar so in return he ripped my tit out of my shirt and started sucking on it IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BAR.
So update from last night: I made friends with a coke dealer, I tore the card scanner off the wall of my dorm, and I passed out on our bathroom counter with my head in the sink.
when your 30 and im 37 and we're lonely and single, lets make a pact to murder each other.
And apparently i asked another younger guy at the bar if he wanted his bud light pumped straight into his vag. As i put back an irish car bomb...
I spilled beer everywhere which led to an oil fire and me melting a spatula again. And then I was late to class so I explained what happened to the teacher.
I think I'm still drunk...I just gave my empty conditioner bottle a break-up speech before I threw it away.
So when this rash is gone wanna hang out?
Felt so good this afternoon, figured I wouldn't have a comedown. Wrong. Just realized I've been staring at a wall for 40 minutes contemplating the color yellow.
It's like we're in an emotionally distant three-way and there's not even sex to show for it.
Randomize
