Its about making memories worth repressing
It's official. I now have that "I was drunk and needed the money" college story to share later in life.
Our new roommate is sitting in the living room wearing a snuggie and clutching a handle of burnett's mixed with what appears to be crystal light and sobbing over a documentary about a dead race horse.
I know. Isn't she utterly fantastic?
And I'm not sure if that's how you pluralize penis. Never planned on needing to know that in my life.
I have a fannypack full of condoms and acid. Let's get weird.
I think it's safe to say I'm rolling my hypothetical balls off
Between the puerto rican elf, the fat marine, the deaf guy and the ex coke head I've got a good preview if the men in this city...
The woman that sang I Touch Myself died today. There's only one appropriate way to honor her memory.
I'm on the job.
I'm at the point where I'm gonna write in my mothers bday card. Happy birthday. Please stop having sex with the door open.
I started dipping tositos in my screwdriver last night
then apparently I went "not bad" and continued
I stopped his blowjob to raise 3 fingers & whistle the hunger games tune to the people walking past the window
You give an incredible blow job. I wanted to make sure you know it was appreciated
Dad smells like hangovers and 65 years of bitterness
no offense but you looked like shit yesterday
tequila is unforgiving..
He told me my car had really nice leather seats right before he jizzed all over them.
Randomize
