Is it necrophilia if we're both dead?
I forgot to tell you the best part. The folded up paper he wrote his number on opened up to be a picture of him when he was younger wearing a Columbia tshirt in front of NASA and in pen said his name and "space consultant."
I know. They started calling me The Incident. The hotel maids, that is.
I came home ate all of my roomates poptarts and then vommited on her duvet cover. I don't think today is the day to suggest the whole "sex instead of rent money" idea
We made the pizza boy do Jell-o shots with us. He didn't even deliver to our house, we just called him over from the neighbors
Hold on, I gotta pump breast milk for the white russians.
Maybe if more guys knew my pillowtalk occasionally includes me scribbling notebook diagrams of cell signalling pathways, I'd get laid more often
You turned to me, winked, whispered "man the harpoons" and walked out with the fat chick
It was like giving head to a cactus.
Apparently I filled my purse with chicken nuggets and told my mom I was a "sexual squirrel."
Thought about it. I'm gonna go to work, but I'm gonna tell them I wrestled a bear saying I fell just isn't working.
OK, but next time I'd like to be present for our make-up sex.
Then you got drunk and shit in her car. Nothing before that matters. She isn’t calling you back.
Oh please. Preoccupy yourself with my penis.
I've started recycling nudes. Why should I take new pictures for every single man?
Randomize
