dude chill. it wont be anything like your seventh grade birthday party.
so it turns out, not only do the doormen judge the girls I bring home, but they rate them.
Its trashy in the best of ways. Like a stripper working to pay for college.
Like if Robert Downey Jr. and Kiefer Sutherland got together for a bender, that's how drunk I want us to be.
He asked if I wanted to leave my bra on while we were doing it from behind bc he read somewhere that all that pounding can be painful for big breasts. THAT thoughtful.
Just woke up to find myself cooking eggs on the imaginary stove in my room.
I fell asleep with my vibrator still in me. I am the Queen of Sad Masturbation.
Also, I threw up on the playground again. I've honestly had more fun there this past summer than I did in my entire childhood.
nothing says "you're fucked" like watching a movie with the family and a handle of vodka comes crashing down from your hiding spot in the ceiling tiles.
Plan: drunk dancing. Reality: drunk almost getting in fights with people that could beat me into the ground.
You may now shotgun with the bride
dude, no lie, I would make out with you in front of them wearing nothing but a rainbow colored speedo
I can't handle more than one dick at once. I become crazy. It's hard to be mellow and free spirited and polygamous at the same time.
I don't WANT a sex disease! Especially one assigned to me by my supervisor..
I know it's going to be a good day because he didn't notice the bite mark on my butt.
Randomize
