Tonight i am praying for god to turn my pussy into apple pie because i cant count the number of times bruce chooses food over sex.
we were spooning and you were the big spoon but you insisted that I call you "the ladle"
By this time tomorrow I expect us to be sitting at the kitchen table either playing a drinking game, or crying. Set an alarm
Do you think you're physically and mentally capable of killing me? Because I'd really appreciate it.
First of all you're supposed to say "you're not fat". And second of all never ever deprive me of nachos.
And I don't know if this is really ESP, or just a crazy feeling, but I'm pretty sure he has an std. Or at least a cold.
Please don't make me ever have to hear the words "the Queen's gynecologist" ever again.
Home-made laxative recipe: activia yogurt and tequila shots. Any ratio ought to work.
This girl invited us back on the promise of weed and strudel...she delivered neither.
I'm not allowed back because I may or may not have insulted his beer. And the entire Czech Republic.
She's officially a Tinder poltergeist.
So...I maybe walked across campus last night with my life size Joe Biden cut out.
I don't know what happened last night. But I just woke up in the high school boiler room
as a self proclaimed hoe im ok with a lotta things but that is not fucking one of them
I woke up upside down with my head in your ottoman and like a foot of space between the ottoman and chair.. My legs were straight up in the air... Yes. Your mother found me.
Randomize
