Me. At least after what I've been through.
There were 3 chicks in my bed I didn't know when I got home. Now I know all of them. Biblically.
best part, i was ridiculous and none of them were judging me bc they didn't want my vagina. it was like i was a pretty painting
you kept calling numbers in ur phone book and saying, "I love your show, I'm a long time listener, first time caller."
His internet searches, listed chronologically: sex slave, volunteer sex slave, lava
We're official. Living with your boyfriend sounds so much better than fucking your roommate.
We were making out and then he stopped and said to me, "Your ship is right there, why don't you take your people and just go?"
It's blow job season.
I'm thinking blowjobs and wheelchair sex should be part of any post-injury wellness plan.
Let's just say that in a last ditch effort to avoid getting arrested I said to the cop "but I'm not even that drunk" and he proceeded to point out (in front of a crowd) that I had "fucking pissed my pants"
"What's your dick like homie" is not really an acceptable thing to say out loud
I still don't understand if he's using me to write his resume or if we're dating
Tears For Fears is the only thing getting me through life at this moment.
feeding cats lunchmeat on my kitchen floor. come pour me another shot.
Just got home from work. I'm going to change into sweats for a while before I have to wear normal pants to the party like I promised.
Randomize
