So I was blaaazed. & while he was in me all I kept thinking was how bad I'd rather be watching The Office.
So am i just your go-to 'i found a tick on my penis' number?
so it turns out, not only do the doormen judge the girls I bring home, but they rate them.
My epitaph should read "Margaritas: she never learned"
I got to the apartment, I was handed a beer within 20 seconds, I'm glowing in the dark, there's fog everywhere, and now I'm wearing a sombrero because apparently it's silly hat night. I never want to leave.
I can't talk to her. I know entirely too much about her genitals to hold a conversation without mentioning them.
Pizza delivery...for when you need to eat your feelings for the sex you aren't having
stuck in a tree...bring a ladder. also my arm might be broken. no questions are allowed.
I'm going on a new diet. It's called the "eat healthy otherwise boys won't want to have sex with your fat ass" diet. Wish me luck.
It feels like a bunch of leprechauns are using my brain as a soccer ball
I'm 25 and I shit my bed last night. And I'm telling you about it. Not sure which is worse
I thought adderall would sober me up, but it did NOT.
Unless you count my weekly workout where I drink wine, listen to obscure/cheesy records, and pretend I'm a ballerina...no. I don't exercise.
She meowed at me. Repeatedly. Then she asked what was wrong with me because I didn't understand her.
Turns out naked yoga wasn't a pickup line. I feel betrayed.
Randomize
