I don't think he has that. His apartment was pretty much a tv and a bed. Topless girl calendar and a glass of water to put out cigarettes.
We can grow old together and our livers can fail together
he matches the description of mystery hookup #2, 4, and 7
nothing says roomie bonding better than a sunday shroom trip.
I was fine until "Under Pressure" came on the radio. It's like God wanted me to shit my pants on the drive home.
You were talking about masturbating on the phone then said you had to go because golden girls was on then you called me back saying you seen that episode already.
Would I waste your time for mediocre porn?
No. If I hated you would get none. Then I would eat them all in front of you and laugh at your tears. Although that hasn't been ruled out for entertainment purposes. Nothing purposeful.
GOD DAMMIT TARYN WHY DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO ROB PLACES IN OUR FUTURE PLANS?!
The last thing I remember is singing hotel California with a hobo and asking every bald man I saw if I could touch his head.
Your mother may get texts again about women putting dog food up their vaginas and asking for it to be licked.
I wish drunk me came with subtitles
He painted a swimsuit on me. Naked day at the lake was a success.
He stopped me in the middle of a blow job to call his grandma for her birthday.
At least he has family values.
Nothing says "I'm sorry for shitting in your bed" like an Olive Garden gift card
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