I woke up at 4am on the couch with half my clothes on. And by half my clothes I mean my earrings.
Fact: Telling a guy he has erectile dysfunction doesn't solve the problem.
My favorite part was walking in the bathroom, you fixing yourself in the mirror, calling your reflection a fag, then throwing a haymaker into the paper towel dispenser before going back out to the bar.
This is so pathetic it makes me miss snorting lines alone in my room listening to 'one more drink'.
Come outside. The vendor wants to go out strong tonight! Russian hooker interviews. Don't ask. We leave in 3 minutes.
And the horses in Central Park have blankets. And Rafiki just told me "it is time" in the back of our cab.
playing nyquil roulette. it entails taking shots of nyquil and hoping it doesnt kick in during sex or in public. game on.
All you have to do is speak. Your voice reverberates strait to my vagina.
She's riding a bike down the street and drinking brown liquor. A pt cruiser is honking at her and she's like I HEAR YOU!!
my night stand is a mini fridge, dont even try to get on my level of laziness.
Accepting his friend request would be the Facebook equivalent of pity sex.
Don't be hating on my everclear. Never taken a smoother journey into intoxication.
Em I need to know if his cum tastes like vodka. Report back.
It was platonic naked porno viewing, I swear.
Look, I need your help, not your judgment.
Randomize