Every time we have sex I can't stop thinking about Jesus
He looks too sensitive, like he's going to write me a poem and cry after the first time we have sex.
Woke up in an unfamiliar basement in a sleeping bag with Matt to a police officer shining his flashlight in my eyes and asking me my birth date and social security number. My morning went swimmingly.
just took my exes job. there should be an award for how many times I've managed to fuck that girl's life
just spent about 3 1/2 hours looking for a dollar so I can buy weed.
suggestion: become a stripper.
i am already firmly committed to doing irish carbombs w/ 12 different people, and the st pattys day party doesnt start for another 24 hours. i may die
Sophomore year, I fucked on your desk chair. I'm sorry. I love you.
You called in. Quitter. You stayed at home naked drinking again didnt you.
Seriously, come get him. He's not even a person anymore. He's a loud, drunk, cock-blocking wrecking ball.
Also, I pretty much need an IV of fluids straight to my soul
Well that was the first and last time I've had to write "divorce party" on a request time off form. I'm throwing it for my mom. What is my life turning into.
I think someone cast a spell on the lazy stoner rich boy stereotype and it came to life and called me.
He wrote me a Haiku titled, "Let me touch your butt".
But I thought it was so funny last night
You also thought you were a gypsy mermaid last night
can you tell me why i woke up in a diaper and combat boots?
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