Just had to explain my "wine me. Dine me. Sixty-nine me" key chain to my grandma...she took it surprisingly well.
my bedside table was not meant to hold this many beer bottles.
Sorry I had passed out by this time I think, with the chicken fingers ON my face in my bed, with all the lights on, and ketchup all over.
My drunk body wants to fuck you so bad, but my high mind is telling me it's too much work. I think I'm just gonna stay home and eat some Mac and cheese. Sorry.
he's like a stage 5 clinger and he won't even fuck me. he has to be gay. my personality isn't really THAT great.
She's like my safety school. At the end of the night, if I haven't found anyone better to hook up with, I can always call her if I need a place to drop a load and don't want to rub one out myself. Perfect next door neighbor.
I woke up this morning with a pop tart under my pillow with one bite eaten. Another pop tart was in the floor. No recollection whatsoever. I ate the one under my pillow for breakfast, though.
Would I waste your time for mediocre porn?
He is peeing inside and sticking up for himself. Those are two of the four signs of the apocalypse.
I was THIS CLOSE. But drunk me wanted to play those washboard abs with a spoon, like an actual washboard. Apparently that hurts, so I just squished it out at home alone.
I remember looking at his body and thinking wow you have a body sculpted by Jesus himself. Still not sure if I said that out loud or not
my life is turning into trapped in the closet at way too fast a speed for me to feel comfortable.
He's gonna do me a solid for doing her a solid. It's like pay it foward. But with sex.
I just want to see his penis in the light. Is that a crime?
let me assure you that a rugburn on your forehead is the worst side effect of tequila i have experienced to date.
Randomize
