please tell me I'm in your upstairs bedroom. Just google mapped myself and I have no idea where I am.
If this place produced love children they would be born wearing Lilly Pullitzer with raging coke addictions.
Did I get blown in the bathroom? Yes. Did she throw up cranberry juice on my shorts? Yes. Did she finish the job? Yes.
Using the ceiling fan to slice the hotdogs in mid-air can only be contributed to our liberal use of 1800.
We had to leave the bar because you were trying to show the bartender your boobs for water.
Used my jumper cables as a bottle opener last night. Really pleased with my problem solving skills.
maybe her throwing up on me was a foreshadowing of how she would later metaphorically throw up on my life
With 4 extra seconds dedicated to the dong.
These kind of text worry me.
its gotten to the point where if her hand isn't on my butt i think we're in a fight
i have to vacuum my washing machine now, asshole
So you don't take a regular pic with her, but you take a selfie with her ass. Interesting...
She drunkenly texted me about Japanese mythology at four AM. I think I’m in love.
You were in the back of the cop car and told the cop to ask me if I got laid. Youre a dedicated wingman.
GOD I WOULD STAB DANNY IN THE EYE WITH HIS OWN PENIS
.........That big, huh?
No. I would cut it off
I Projectile vomited a massive question mark on Brent's bedroom wall. Don't tell him it was me. I want him to play the whodunit game.
Randomize
