im typing and i feel like my hands are on backwards.
Stop texting me, I'm right here.
I have fifteen cents in cash and 80 cents in the bank. BUT I have weed.
On my way back to his place to see his "art". Why am I sure this is going to be nothing more than his dick in a box?
How is it that you get into at least one taco related fight a year?
I was high fiving everyone. I even high fived with the wall for doing such a good job suporting the ceiling and keeping us alive.
If he's the sort of guy that will fuck in a public restroom, he's the sort of guy that will cheat on his gf. I'm goin for it.
And by "schedule" I meant crumbled up liquor store receipt, that I wrote shit on.
Two questions. One. Where are you watching election results tomorrow? Two. Can we have Obama victory sex?
Pictures of drunk me in a bike helmet are like McDonald's collectible toys. There's sooo many, but NO ONE has seen all of them.
Master Skywalker, there are too many of them. What am I going to do?
Hit on the one in the red shorts. The thirst is strong with this one.
I ate 2 pot cookies before we left the house. Fuck Pokemon. I'm playing my own game.
When I type "sleep" my phone suggests "with Trevor". My phones an asshole.
I assure you, it was not a Porn Hub Bee Movie parody.
It’s like I’m living in some alternate wet dream universe right now
He pulled out the guitar, sat in tub, and took requests while she puked her brains out in the toilet. I think he loves her.
Randomize
