You were running around the house with a purple crayon asking people to call you harold..
he likes ron paul.... that's all i'm going to say....
I don't know if it was the room or her, but as soon as the pants came off, it smelt like a locker room and old man farts.
I will never get the visual of you crying while chewing christmas lights out of my head
My google history shows every combination of "red lobster cheesy biscuits" possible.
You're asking the wrong person. I was drunk on nyquil and jager.
She's the barista slut.
Nope we're in the ER. He lit himself on fire trying to impress another girl with magic tricks.
So I'm thinking next semester you should be my own personal maid, nurse, masseuse and chef in exchange for free lodging, any food you can find, and unlimited access to my reproductive organs.
I'm convinced that college is the only place where one can have an existential crisis over what sweatpants to wear
Maybe if he'd step up his game and get a real job instead of donating plasma and trying to grow pot then you wouldn't feel compelled to write prisoners in Oregon.
....she made me stop for like 3 minutes so she could talk to her cat....
Tonight I researched being a phone sex operator and teaching English at a French school in Africa. I think my future lacks direction
drunk snapchatting is the worst, because i woke up with great pictures of my tits saved to my memories and no idea who i sent them to
But then our conversations are like black box recordings. Just the stuff you hear when the plane is going down
Randomize
