Sorry if I ruined your sex last night with my constant text updates about the plot of Bolt.
The gyno asked how many partners i've had... I said ummmm she goes ok then i'll just put down ten.
Of course I was flustered, I had a lot of penis in my face.
Something about getting head on stairs. I don't know.
Dude, its flawless. what could go wrong?
Jail. That could go wrong.
Our lady landlord called. Dot worry, I handled it. Drunk. Tell her it was Nate. Done. Good. Bye. Drunk.
My chest smells like french fries. Get at me attractive men.
I'm going to need a Jurassic park sized pooper scooper to deal with all this shit last night caused.
I was told to keep my leg elevated. I assume it means to keep my legs on the air, it's like I was prescribed to be slutty
I think there's a problem with society when I'm shopping for lingerie and I think "man some of these would make kickass shirts"
Rigtt?!
I'm gone to the point of literally hugging trees, partially for support, but also because I like them.
Jesus Christ. Even your cock has to be an overachiever. :-(
I feel awful. The bartender added me on Facebook and there's chips all over the bathroom floor
If I die, sorry about rent.
He's got a british accent, a tounge ring, and he's wearing an eye patch... Of corse I'm fucking him
Randomize
