i have a reoccuring irrational fear i'm going to walk in on my dad masterbating. Night.
I thouht it was time to go to sleep and suddenly I was front row on brokeback mountain
using my metrocard to split lines. it says optimism on the back. i am optimistic that you will appear at my door and help me finish all these drugs.
you should have heard her the other night. no sentence related to one preceding it. it was like she was in etch a sketch and when she moved she forgot everythin
masturbating is 5million times harder to finish knowing grandma is in the guestroom downstairs. just so you know.
his recent searches consisted of "World record for not bathing" and "Miley Cyrus vs Taylor Swift". Not even i am that desperate.
Apparently I mistakenly called the hair club for men at 3am... they called me back this morning.
I can trace it back to that drunken night where we peed on each other in the shower.
Come my child we shall walk thru the pasture of amazing sex and corndogs. Hint:some corndogs are not corndogs.
Well despite the fact that I'm still not entirely sure this isn't an elaborate/cunning plan to kill me, I'm in.
Tim and I found you a 5ish and asked how you were doing with the breakup. All you said was "i can't words"
DON'T WEAR PANTS.
I REPEAT.
DO. NOT. WEAR. TROUSERS.
I totally straight up jacked your pants. I am so sorry.
You have more time for sex than anyone I know.
dude. I can hear the air.
Randomize
