We were hooking up, both of us naked. She starts putting her clothes back on and says, "I have to go to the bathroom." I reply, "No you don't, you're leaving." Without hesitation she looks at me and says, "Yeah."
Day drunk and a can of soup and wine straight from the bottle and alone and on my kitchen floor.
When you hit the 45 minute mark of any argument about The Flintstones, you have to realize: it's no longer you arguing, it's the cocaine arguing.
It was like an alcohol war zone and you left a soldier behind.
I feel like it'll be a success as long as she doesn't end up dead in a ditch. There has to be a line somewhere.
Based off the amount of cat hair on my poncho....i stole a cat last night.
It was a taxi full of fist pumps and chanting to "face down, ass up". It was that 1% that makes my job worth it.
On my way, five mins. Is the line long? Do you think they will they hold a pumpkin at coat check?
I feel like I should pray to the god of Febreze, because it is like it washes away the smell of all my sins from the bed
She started giving me head while we were watching the Walking Dead premiere, WORST BJ EVER.
I forgot to lock the bathroom door. He walked in, saw me on the toliet, nodded, and walked back out.
I didn't rip your fishnets, WE ripped your fishnets.
I told him I want him to read me my Miranda rights while he's fucking me. Act exactly like he does while he's on duty except with his dick out.
You are hungover. Your arguments are irrational an incoherent. We only played twice. Have some Gatorade and take a knee.
Hitting up all my dealers for my birthday grams is paying off
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