puked in the new hous. now it's officially home.
ive come to the point where weve hung out more times sober than drunk. i think im growing up. fuck.
in the middle of giving him head in the backseat of my car he taps me on the shoulder, opens the door, throws up three times and then proceeds to tell me how amazing i am.
He knows my period schedule but not my work schedule.
It's official, I need to start putting my vagina's needs before my own.
Me and him getting it in is for special occasions only. Like Christmas and when they bring the McRib back.
I lost the bet. I now have to do all chores sans clothing of any kind. I give it a week before I'm knocked up...
U know when u get really drunk and u don't think anyone can see what your doing? If I'm that drunk the possibilities are endless
Like an undercooked grilled cheese that got cold again. But hairy.
And there goes my desire for sandwiches. Forever.
I should be trashily making out with an air force cadet in the beach volleyball court by now
I may or may not of seen my high school physics teacher making out with my old high school boyfriend at the bar last night
At one point I was counting his nipple hairs to calm myself down.
Is it immoral to trade sex for the use of his laundry room?
He's got a british accent, a tounge ring, and he's wearing an eye patch... Of corse I'm fucking him
I paid for lunch, then he made a bunch of holes in my wall and destroyed my bathroom.
Randomize
