so...dinner was kid's cuisine and a bottle of wine. i think they go well together.
Still waiting. He said he'd call between 2 and 10... apparently he's like the Comcast of drug dealers.
So I made him an imaginary sandwich and told him that the day I didn't have to fake it, neither would he.
the trick is not to think about where her tounge has been.
That combination of brocholi bacon eggs cheese ketchup and pasta would have been a revaltion had you not thrown up on the stove and put out the pilot light
If you ever find a dick that big chop it off and bring it to me.
I just threw up trying to put pants on. This is obviously a sign to stay naked.
There is only one good excuse for how sore I am right now. And that is incredibly acrobatic sex. Unfortunately for me that is not my excuse.
I'll be listening to "I will always love you" and sobbing uncontrollably all night, care to join?
I feel like I got hit by a truck. Or a baby dinosaur. One of them ran over my body and then stuck me in a blender of fire and storm clouds
Let's be honest. I make up for my well below average sized penis with a great personality and a possibly successful future
I showed up to a booty-call in my onesie pajamas and rubber boots
I need vodka and champagne for my new favorite drink, vodkapagne. Alternative spellings are "vodkapain" and "vom-machine"
Seriously bro? Indoor roman candle wars? I guess I'll never see that fucking security deposit again
I taught three men with PhDs how to make a gravity bong last night. I love academia.
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