I'm at subway, this 8 year old kid is judging my fashion sense with his dad. I want to kill myself.
It's ok, he's just 8, he's not judging you.
He just asked why I'm sitting alone. I honestly want to cry.
Well. Nothing came of that. And to think I manscaped and dusted with gold bond.
This is much more drunk than i was intending for a wednesday
you wrote "5 million dollars" in the tip line for the pizza delivery man and insisted that he deserves it
I hate girls that dress up to come to planned parenthood. I just want to be like we are all in the same boat here, we know your slutty. Its OK.
Getting blown during the Cavs game doesn't make it any less depressing.
I love my boobs, they're the only thing that supports me. They make me a solid 6.
After sex he cried I didn't know what to do so I patted him on the back and went to the kitchen to make waffles
when you're a senior and the freshman guy you wake up next to asks who you are, you DO NOT give him your real name.
it's just weird to think of you as a teacher since ive seen you throw up raspberry bacardi in my parents house
I didn't know where you were for like 15 minutes and then I went in the bathroom splashing water on the mirror and throwing hand towels around saying that you were "redecorating"
My memory of last night is a delicious blur of tits, ass, and alcohol.
WHAT KIND OF DEALER ONLY WORKS FRI-SUN???
Ours, apparently.
He shampooed and conditioned his pubes but can't manscape for shit.
He started humming a moment like this when I was taking off his pants.
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