I puked in a mailbox on the way back from your house.
And. No one ejaculated on anyones face. This is all wrong
she asked me if I wanted a handjob on the haunted mansion ride at Disney. was I suposed to say no?
the best part is my dad got arrested for the same thing at the same bar 30 years ago... so he cant be mad
I asked him how he was going to celebrate tomorrow and he said "tits, clits, and bong hits"
In a tragic sexting typo, I typed the word "blobjob". Now she's coming over and I have no idea what I'm in for...
she kept peeing on everything and yelling it was now her property.
Exactly. Because my vagina can't be consoled with words. It requires a thicker form of communication
I am eating deep fried cinnamon rolls and I found a lighter in my sprinkles. I miss you.
I borrowed a glass of wine. And the bottle. Your cat said it was ok
You remember the guy they called Meat in high school? Well, let's just say my vagina remembers him now.
Needless to say, I woke up on the bathroom floor wearing the dress that my mom wore to the wedding. That open bar stole my soul.
blue gatorade loses no color upon regurgitation
Shut up. You had me at killer robots. Your place or mine?
Is there a reason drunk me put drunk you's phone in the freezer?
Randomize
