all we ever talk about is how much i like your dick or my drug problem.
He only uses me for sexual pleasure. The sad part is I don't even feel like a slut. I just I feel like I should just live in the top drawer of his nightstand....for free of course.
9 am. shotgunning while conditioning my hair. i love college football season.
its time for step 4 of getting over him: post his number on the transvestite page on craigs list asking for pics
thank you for reminding me that I stumbled into a public place drunk at 9am wearing a chicks pants.
well someone pooped in the lint basket in the laundry room last night, but none of us will admit to it so we're all just secretly judging each other and doubting ourselves.
random memory from the wedding, the bartender show us how to open the windows of the hotel and pee out of them
I have too much respect and admiration for my dick to put it into a situation where he could possibly be killed
Trust me that one dick you don't want. It's like a whale... That's swam too many oceans...
If you say no to drinking on a Monday then I'm going to take you to the hospital for a MRI
I literally walked into the toilet, looked at my reflection, said "alcohol" and went back to bed...
You might have to deal with a coked up ex pan American gold medalist wrestler when you get back to the room
if anyone knows where my shirt is please let me know and if you know why I don't have my own shirt please also let me know. also do any of you know why I'm missing a bra wire?
all his sexual metaphors involve condiments, should I worry?
Awake! can you bring me my pants...im under the couch
Randomize
