the cure to his relationship is in or around my vagina.
I'm covered in salsa and facewash. I think I'm doing something wrong over here.
I just fell off my chair and knocked over the table. People are staring. That hungover.
I hurt. I blacked out in a onesie. Reevaluation needs to happen.
Well, they emptied out the keg by the third kegstand for America.
on the list of things i learned today that are not stripper poles: ex-boyfriends, table legs, and police officers.
We're sitting in his room writing songs about America. There's a verse about a dead dog. There's tequila everywhere.
she tried to handfeed me fritos while yelling "PENIS TRAIN"
every Thursday i draw one of my friends names out of a hat to choose who i will drunkenly text all weekend
I know how I'm going to make my fortune.. designing an icepack made specifically for the vagina.
i had a mental breakdown over a math asignment proposed to a glass of chocolate milk then burned my hands when i acidentally leaned on the stove i have the grill marks burned on my hands i can see them
its only been 20 minuts since i last saw you
dude, I convinced you I was your conscience for like 15 minutes last night. you weren't just "a little high"
okay. well, yeah. i'm a mess and a half. this shit is not what dumbledore died for.
He's getting so into these sexts, I hate to tell him I'm fully clothes, watching Bring It On and eating chips and salsa.
This will never work. His dick is smaller than mine.
Wow. And yours is kind of small.
RIGHT?
Randomize
