go do what you do best...puke behind churches
And my awkwardness continues. I felt the need to send him a text that said roar. I did it.
I submitted an essay to my history teacher comparing changes in the middle ages to the song changes by David Bowie. I can't wait to see my grade on that.
It was awful until we put her on a word ration. And she rationed her words accordingly. I love blondes.
Hate the very realistic pregnancy dreams. Like my dream when I birthed the pirate ships. SO REAL...
the laptop wouldn't balance on his lap. that's how well endowed he is.
Apparently I got mad at you for "Not drinking with me till we thought we were seahorses" and smashed my face on your door. Then I put my feet in the oven and started crying because I was drinking alcohol from a pot. My life is spinning out of control.
His penis has been a bonding mechanism beyond comparison.
Rule of thumb; if you ask me if my tits are fake you will not get to touch them.
I realize it truly is impossible to burrow under the grass like a mole. Let's not drink for at least another 3 days.
She was giving me head while we were in my tree house, my mom then came out to let the dog out so she stopped so I would stop groaning, was it good? You tell me
I'm going to avoid eye contact because my old high school English teacher is not who I feel like seeing after I just had a dick in my mouth
Crowning achievement. I bought ranch dressing and emergency contraception.
I knew it was all downhill from there when the straight vodka I was drinking tasted like water.
And when were you going to tell me to stop dancing on his coffee table singing "come on irene?"
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