That fat broad you banged out last night is still here and I can hear her snoring through the living room wall. I would leave, but I don't want to come home to an empty fridge.
After work we went home to fool around. Turns out he had sawdust under his foreskin. I'm never going down on him again.
So two questions...why am I covered in muffins and are there pictures of this.
Can you call him, he said something about going to the balcony to pee and now hes texting me saying hes lost
He tried to write down the address for the cab on half a bagel.
Home safe. Psyche shattered. Still rolling. In love with the morrocan rug in the living room.
He needs a high five right to the fucking mouth. With a chair. Or an atomic bomb.
I went through my entire iTunes library and made a playlist called "Feelings". I have 7.5 hours of feelings.
Dude. I don't even want cuddles. I just want an acknowledgement that I just had balls in my mouth.
I can't believe you're forcing me to handle this hangover sober
In the middle of pounding my asshole he stopped and said, "do you want to get breakfast after this?"
So on a scale of 1-10 how mad would you be if I sent you a picture from the inside of a strip club
I am 11 times too hungover to give the eulogy
Do you remember what happened last night? All I could find we're phone numbers of strip clubs in Detroit. Did we go to Detroit?
I love you, but seriously, that was way too long a thesis on an Arby’s curly fry being wrapped around schlong!
Randomize
