somehow on my way home with matt, I ended up straddling steve on the sidewalk and polling the people walking by on whether or not we should have sex.
it's like i warped into dreamland and the only thing that makes sense is my solo cup
she's about as cool as a sandpaper handjob.
He only uses me for sexual pleasure. The sad part is I don't even feel like a slut. I just I feel like I should just live in the top drawer of his nightstand....for free of course.
That's the last time we joust in Radio Flyer wagons after margarita night.
Slutty costumes are my most sacred holiday tradition! Wearing a not-slutty costume is like putting cheezwiz on a communion wafer.
Yes I hit her with my car. Yes I gave her a ride home. And yes she gave me her number. What's the problem?
I woke up to the sound of gentle rain, only to realize I was laying under a urine trough in the men's restroom. Fuck you, bourbon. Fuck you.
I'm at work. It's margarita night. Someone literally just shouted "MURICUH!"
God bless us, everyone.
GLITTER SLIP N SLIDE MUTHAFUCKAH~
Well despite the fact that I'm still not entirely sure this isn't an elaborate/cunning plan to kill me, I'm in.
Love you too. There are very few people I let pee in my dishwasher.
Nah, just stick him in a closet with some cheetos, a blunt and soda. The darkness will calm him down until Mallory can be located.
shit... I double booked my fuck buddies
Hey this is your roommate. You know the one that let you have sex with her while you called out your exs name and cried?
I have no recollection of that. You must have the wrong number. P.s. your thongs still on the ceiling fan.
Randomize
