Dude stop singing. Your life is not an episode of fucking glee
I'm sitting on the patient chair, waiting for my vagina to be violated & "i don't want to miss a thing" has been playing on repeat. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME.
We're smoking a joint the size of the average penis right now. I may not survive.
Contents of my pockets this morning: phone, condom, one hoop earring, half a cheeseburger, lighter and a $87 receipt from tacobell. Time for work.
I have nothing to lose. And a bunch of dick to gain.
She wanted me to watch her masterbate and after she thanked me for a wonderful evening and left. This state is weird.
She sat next to me on the couch and said "word going around is you got a sweet cock". My nickname problem was solved!
We could make it cute. Like "oh those two cute lesbians who are about five foot two who sell the cocaine down the street. You know the ones? With the Yorkies?"
Wait... All I had to do was ask for a sandwich and you would have come over
I'm toasting stale bread and thinking of you
Is that a sex thing?
My pants are like a grocery bag containing ONLY jelly beans right now.
6 pack came off in the shower. Sharpie is not forever.
Does it still count as a valentine if it's drunk phone sex at 3 in the morning
Tbh the only thing I was fully concerned about from the dream was what type of fucked up parallel universe doesn't have Coca-Cola
We're getting a bucket of chicken and screwing around, so no, you can't join us.
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