Scared. last time someone tried to talk me into they said it tastes like tapioca and i projectiled onto a closed window
so its official, girls can see a boner through my snuggie.
He was going down on me and raised up for a minute, slipped and punched me in the face. My lady boner left immediately.
My head. My head is the problem. Also alcoholism.
You forgot your "boyfriend" from last night on my couch. You're suppose to bring that shit with you.
That moment when your fucking in an airport bathroom and forget to lock the door. That poor man...scarred forever...
I'm standing on the corner in a banana costume and cape with frozen bananas in my utility belt reassessing my life decisions.
meanwhile at my house I found 2 bud heavys in the back of my book shelf crammed between a Franklin book and goodnight moon
I climbed up on the tank of the toilet so I could take a slo-mo vid of myself pissing into the garbage can, but the base of the toilet shattered and I had to bail.
You threw up a gallon of vomit. I really have never seen anything like it in my decade of partying.
I'm sitting at my kitchen table alone dressed as a dinosaur smoking bowls in the dark. Is this rock bottom? Or is this living the dream? Who's to say
None of these texts make sense. except for "step 2.5 equals velociraptor." that i get.
I've just realized that today's rations have consisted of turkey bacon and jack Daniels.
All time low: no dry towels so I'm using the sex towel to dry off
I dont know. He's too private. After you fuck him find out his secrets.
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