I fucked **** last night, don't tell mike
this is mike. we're done.
separated laundry into 'got laid' and 'didn't get laid' piles.
Drinking at work by myself... My boss just walked into me copying my face on the copy machine..
A man in denim coveralls just shotgunned a beer on the dance floor
Freedom, beauty, truth, and love to all. I also probably have syphilis
New level of stoned. My Terry's Chocolate Orange didn't 'whack-and-unwrap' so I ate it like an apple.
Plus, I've always wanted to drive in rush hour with a huge cock drawn on my hood
Ps you missed quite a show. I was for some reason whipping my hair back and forth and head butted the tip jar. It shattered and now I have a circular bruise on my forehead. All the bartenders hit the floor to get all the quarters.
Finals drinking + forgeting you had to take your ambien because you work at 6am mid paper= drunk logic which then entails going on a "detox" run. Puking your guts put in the field house bushes while some random guy says to you "its okay. We're marching on."
I did not appreciate your texts about spanking at 3'o'clock this morning.
The fact that you walked around talking like Barbie and still got laid amazes me.
That's not the problem. The problem is I thought I was over him but he smells nice today.
I wanna get to the point where I can just send a question mark and get an exclamation point in response
He has a penis. Therefore, he counts.
Since moving to the suburbs, all I do is fuck my ex and watch cartoons. It's not so bad.
Randomize