Me. At least after what I've been through.
I can no longer count the number of girls I've banged on my fingers and toes. It's like being born again.
the only reason I knew his name is because half way through I looked up and it was tatooed on his chest.
Is puking blood really that bad of a sign? Can we pretend this is okay?
It's okay.
The heart of my unhappiness in my job is that it's not a place where coworkers and I can draw dicks on everything to amuse each other
Are you feeling okay?
Right now, not a single thing feels even slightly okay. That hungover.
I'm so confused as to where the sexual euphemisms end and the drinking starts
nothing like having plan b for breakfast in a cvs parking lot before ordering this semester's textbooks
ANNA HAS DISCOVERED EROTIC FANFICTION OF SHARKNADO THIS IS NOT A DRILL
I plan to get very, very drunk when I get off work.
But doesn't your shift end at like noon?
I don't think you understand.
I felt like... 50% confused and 50% like a slow roasted flip flop.
Then when he got home he face timed me and showed me his balls
I'm spending my Sunday wishing the entire Patriots offense would let me touch their manhood
I am eating a fluff-a-nutter sandwich at the gym right now. I brought vodka too.
I woke up using a beer can as a pillow. successful party?
Randomize
