Looks like I will be paying for the roofie I slipped myself in 9 months.
I got a phone call from security asking me to do my laundry wearing more than a blanket next time.
sooo... you have no idea who nailed their tubesocks to my wall?
Let us do this. Tomorrow night is thirsty Thursday. Let us drink whiskey from the bottle and have men in plastic gloves inscribe permanent images of each others faces onto our buttocks.
Have the decency to NOT HANG YOU'RE USED CONDOM ON THE FOOSEBALL HANDLES! Dickhead.
Ok. Here's the plan. Take your hand (whichever is closest), summon all your nerve, and just stick it right down his pants.
I love you.
Next time we include dessert condiments into our sex life we can fuck up my sheets. It's only fair.
Was my mother there when I broke the stipper pole?
I sewed up my pants, stole his girlfriends white shirt, and went to work hungover like a responsible adult.
My life is a clusterfuck of men and disorderly priorities right meow.
Come home, I'm drunk on the porch and pretending to smoke breadsticks like cigarettes. Enticing, right?
Please just help me figure out where the bruise on my face came from.
See I insist I'm not a groupie and then I say things like "will bang for a backstage pass".
I want to shoot him sideways (so he can still breathe) in the Adam's apple with my little crossbow.
He stopped the gas pump at 69 and gave me my receipt. He wants it.
Randomize
