For a day that started with shitting my pants, things turned out fairly well.
Every time my boyfriend threatens to commit suicide I change my relationship status as "widowed".
I woke up and my clothes were soaked in the shower and I was wearing a Ghostbusters uniform. I'm shocked she hasn't left me yet.
I vaguely remember taking a shit behind the shed before I started puking over the fence. No more Xanax.
He was ugly. Like horse ugly. But he was built for power, not for speed.
I'm like the Mother Theresa of booty calls.
It must have been an amazing night, I have "my pants are responsible people" written on my pants in permanent marker.
It's surprise blowjob week. You should be excited.
Bud light lime after 12 shots of vladdy is like frolickin in a meadow of sweet flavor
I've seen too many dicks in the past week. I can't do it anymore.
Morning fuck and a coffee. ARE YOU READY TO CONQUER THE GALAXY WITH ME??
It's become almost a Pavlovian response. The sound of the vacuum being run by hubby causes an instantaneous involuntary orgasm.
Sitting on my couch watching TV in my underwear drinking a bottle of wine.... and you want to interrupt me to come pick you up. No I will not do it.
I know you do it only because of my toyota, but thank you for fucking me. Seriously.
I forget, are we banging TA’s for grades this semester or not?
Depends on how cute he is
Randomize
