so the situation is a+b=c where "a" is how much you weight, "b" is my gravitational pull, and "c" is how erect your penis is.
I've walk of shamed through this apartment complex so many times, I think people think I live here.
I don't want to eat him, he probably tastes terrible.
I probably looked like a mental patient. I had my IV in one hand and cup of pee in the other, swaying around with a dazed grin on my face. I love vicodin.
We're going to shave my junk and take pictures of it wearing fake mustaches we found at the dollar store. They're uncannily realistic; much better than the cockstaches of my youth.
playing nyquil roulette. it entails taking shots of nyquil and hoping it doesnt kick in during sex or in public. game on.
WHY IN THE FUCK DID YOU LET ME DRUNK PUNCH STEVE? HE IS SUCH A NICE GUY!
How the fuck you gonna play love don't cost a thing in a strip club?
I could fuck to npr.
There is a time and place for BDSM, in-between disney sing-alongs is not one of them.
The impromptu 'dance party' was just three white dudes flailing arrhythmically in the kitchen in absolute silence. Stone cold sober.
If I'm going to keep blacking out this much I need to start taking more pictures.
He left a full handprint on my ass. He called it a "five-star review."
I expected my Sunday morning walk of shame dressed as a sexy Dorothy would get some scorn, but nobody seems to even care
That’s because it’s 2020. The slutty costume walk of shame is a refreshing reminder of a time when wearing masks and catching communicable diseases was a right of passage, not everyday for the foreseeable future.
She flirted with a pilot and a frat boy at the airport in Vegas and told our bartender his mask matched her panties so yeah I’d say she’s rebounding from the divorce
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