Either your mom needs to stop making spagetti or we need to lay off the anal. I cant tell you how much im in pain.
Spagetti cuz im not giving up the other one.
My farts smell like St. Pauli Girl. Last night was too much for a Monday.
Covered in glitter and dick. 2010 feels a lot like 2009.
Disgusting. If I saw her naked my dick would pack up his balls and leave.
he's from indiana, of course he's clueless about "g-spots"
He tried to write down the address for the cab on half a bagel.
I peed on his girlfriend's loofah during our post-sex shower.
We could make it cute. Like "oh those two cute lesbians who are about five foot two who sell the cocaine down the street. You know the ones? With the Yorkies?"
Almost to work. And still feel hungover. Like my body is trying to regenerate after dying. Full on zombie shit. But like, one of those zombies from warm bodies that comes back to life slowly.
I spent half an hours grinding with a drunk Harry Potter cosplayer at the con rave. Pretty sure I felt his wand.
I might have pissed in the corner of someone's shed. They have nice lawn mower.
I'm so annoyed. We're about to buy groceries for the week and at this point I'm hoping to sustain myself on pure alcohol.
"Yeah because the first thing I think of when I hear the word college is tear gas."
I still have a little drunk in my system
I'm beginning a new chapter of my life in which our fridge will always be stocked with jello shots. I'm excited to embark down this road to fruity, semi-solid alcoholism.
Randomize
