they could make at least 3 episode of "i shouldn't be alive" out of my weekend
it's already thursday and i haven't gotten drunk yet...something's not right.
I want to figure out a way to work "if you suddenly die, I might turn into an extreme hoarders" into my valentines day poem
He taught me where the gears in a five speed are with his penis.
Concert was great. Tackled the lead singer. Met him afterwards. He was cool about it.
So instead of asking me for my number, he asked for my dad's because he wanted to "thank the man that helped create those tits."
He's trying to marry me, when is the appropriate time to tell him my real name and that Dallas is a completely fictitious slutty alter ego? I need the advice of someone with morals.
She was a little hefty, so I turned on the strobe light in our room. Everything looks better with a strobe light.
I feel like you guys are talking about real things and have real problems and I'm just over here like 'should I take muscle relaxers or get drunk tonight?'
Also, I want you to know, that not only am I apparently the expert on sexting. Our bishop is consulting me later. So my talents are varied.
I finally had to say "that's the hole where I pee" for him to understand.
The lowest point of my life has been reached. I just drank half a jar of pasta sauce.
Why exactly is there a butt plug on the counter?
Ah you cut my boxers off with scissors, we're way past introductions
Look. All I'm saying is that if the USWNT can win a shit ton of medals and have two gay love stories with happy endings, there's still hope in this world
Randomize
