hey this is lauren, i have to type for jon because he's convinced the tongs he's holding are his real hands
just found a beer in my hamper. even my laundry is a dirty alcoholic.
Well, I guess that settles the question of how thick the walls are in my building.
Hey man your outta milk
How the hell do you keep getting in my apartment?!
That's the last time you call me to prove to some girl at a bar that you're English. It's bad enough that you actually get to fuck them because of it without having to wake me up to seal the deal.
I believe its time to stop celebrating Thanksgiving. I've been drunk for over a week. If my liver doesn't give out, and I'm not pregnant I will truly have something to be thankful for.
In college, I had one standard. Penis. A lot has changed since then. Now I really only have one standard. Breathing.
I have vodka soaked strawberries. My latest tarot card reading hinted at a lesbian/bisexual coming out. I doubt I survive the night.
Yeah, but I think it would be a little awkward to explain to Mom that the girl I brought for lunch is not my girlfriend but just a fuck buddy who I met after she hit and totaled my car last month.
I knew it was on when all she had to say about the handcuffs was 'I really hope these adjust tighter!'
I told him he could fuck me in his Notre Dame jersey if they won and he never texted back. What is this world coming to
If you send me another picture of a donut on your penis while I'm at work, I may have to slap you With the donut.
I'm super depressed and stressed and I just want spaghetti and sex...
I experienced pure joy just moments ago when I looked down and saw that I had another pop tart to consume down my mouth hole.
he high fived his dick after we had sex
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