apparently the secret to your success is patron
I think I'm pregnant with his hipster baby. It keeps kicking my stomach to the beat of mgmt songs.
I swear to god he's a one man village people.
Just drive me around campus, I will be able to smell their innocence.
Nothing says Welcome to America than having the international house watch a sorority girl puke over the edge of the porch at 8am.
What do I wear to meet his family/put his dog to sleep? Is there even an appropriate outfit for this occasion?
Think of this as an opportunity. Like Jesus just opened up his closet, and inside is an endless supply of huge, beautiful cock.
You stumbled in at 10am, half-clothed and still drunk from last night and yelled "well, its not called a walk of pride!", then passed out on the couch.
I was just like oh sorry I'm peeling meanwhile my legs are on either side of his head and I look like a fucking Komodo dragon
I woke up with my name tag for work still on my shirt. It was a rough night.
Your vagina doesn't want to be violated with garnishes. I get it.
I might stash a bottle of vodka in your mailbox, that way if I wanna leave early I can drink in your frontyard till you get back.
In theory, it seemed like it would work.
I want sex. When is an appropriate time post funeral to ask for something like that. Like when it gets dark out?
Why are there naked heterosexuals in my apartment?
Randomize
