Things we need. Powerade. Water in fridge. Mixers for vodka. And reality checks.
Excuse me but the alley way I wanted to fuck in happens to be a very nice clean area.
I apparently started to text you last night. All it said was 'the whole clam'. I hope that means something to you.
Holy shit, Uber is testing a service to summon an ice cream truck.
Bring me the penis of the founder so I may endlessly fellate him. Or cunnalinge. I don't discriminate.
We have six bottles of wine and we are at target buying baby oil to grease up the sleds with, just in case you're interested.
Once I hang curtains in my truck bed that'll be feasible
I forgot drug dealers have families, too. Cheers to a sober, uncomfortable, slightly enraging Thanksgiving.
Shit on my own feet while puking from my hangover. Is this what 33 is supposed to be like?
I will forever remember this as The Great Jalepeno Cock Burn of 2014.
I might go to an NA meeting just to fuck that boy in the bathroom.
I JUST HAD TO SNORT THE REST OF MY BAG OF COKE BECAUSE THE BAG RIPPED IN THE WORK BATHROOM.
I'm guessing you feel amazing due to all the caps?
LETS GET THIS SHIT DONE. IM GONNA GET THIS SHIT DONE, FOREVER.
I literally have a pirate chest of slutty clothing.
I think I just scared the sex out of my booty call. He saw me at the grocery store using one of those "future mother" parking spots right next to the handicap ones. He just made eye contact and drove off. I regret my laziness.
I'm starting to notice a direct correlation between blackouts and broken bones...
I don't think there's a ladylike way to tell this guy I want to sit on his face
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