I had a dream last night that I was the one that killed Biggie
It is scary how often "just flash him" is your advice.
He broke into my apartment to check his Facebook again, the beer is all gone, and there's a new high score on pac man.
It's a gateway drink.... Starts with wine... Then I wake up in my car with mascara on my arms covered in french fries...
I'm sorry I murdered your sperm with my alcohol saturated Olympic uterus.
This is the only time in your life where finding a half eaten lime and pair of florescent pink underwear that wasn't yours means that it was a good night
I didn't know whether to laugh at the fact that a dog bit his balls or throw up cause my dad was telling me a story involving his balls.
No. No. No. No one's allowed to fuck in the yurt.
Star Trek does not adequately answer all the questions that I have about alien genitals
I now have a bottom rung on my kissing scale. Like I can say "Well. On a scale of Matt to Braxton he was probably a Zach." It's the little things.
It's accurate though. I am legitimately passionate about pickles. I crave pickles the same way I crave sex. It is a deep rooted animalistic need
I just blew thrown up hashbrowns out my nose. That's the level of this hangover.
I have got to move on from this "sleeping with every drug dealer I meet" phase.
that awkward moment when you use blowjob jokes as a segue into coming out as bi
You know when you're a kid and you play at the pool until you passed out? It was like that except instead of playing it was sex.
Randomize
