I wish there was a "friends who have gained the most weight since high school" filter on facebook for when I am feeling fat.
By the grace of god and the ingenuity of Alexander Graham Bell, this text message is made possibe: YOU ARE A WHORE
Resolution for 2011: blow jobs are a privilege, not a right.
The money is just too good to quit doing it. I'm using the same justification strippers use.
and a jello shot exploded in my bra last night. Now I have blueberry smurfette boobs. Awesome.
What's the sex policy on a school bus? Because I dibs back seat.
Sex allowed. Dress code is neon and obnoxious.
We are gonna die. I wanna enforce the "no jumping out of moving vehicles" policy. And how are we gonna get a school bus through mcdonalds drive thru?
8:30 every morning in the third floor bathroom we fuck in the handicap stall. You have your morning workout and I have mine.
I shit myself. Legit. And I burnt my tongue. Unrelated incidents, but related in the sense of general discomfort.
He left my apartment when I broke up with him just as my booty call was walking in. It was a little awkward...
I went to the bathroom, came back, and my friend was sleeping leaning up against the stripper pole.
For once I am not in the mood. My vagina is good with life at the moment.
The apocalypse has arrived.
I mean seriously...It's like the universe is saying "your vagina is closed, move along"
Something I never want to forget. I'm in a porta potty and she is outside knocking on the door going "You're a queen. You're a queen. Never think any different"
Now just crop his dad out and add it to the spank bank.
I have vodka, fruit gushers, and health insurance. Let's party.
Randomize
