Right on... I dropped my chapstick
I blacked out
thats the last time I fuck a piece of fruit on camera for him.
Apparently everytime he put me down to bed I escaped out the window, I faintly recall climbing into the canoe in the back yard, and air paddling.
But hes like a baby bird with a broken wing that i want to FUCK.
Russian roulette. Between salvia and weed. You in?
FUCK YOU MAN
Note to self: last nights makeup does NOT, under ANY circumstances, look good today.
We got security called on us. Apparently the wedding down the street didn't appreciate the trespassing or our loud as fuck rendition of We Are Young.
It's times where you wake up in the hospital after trying to road surf that you wonder what you're doing in life.
Option 1: fuck me and bedtime. Option 2: come fuck me and then hangout with everyone. Option 3: don't fuck me in which case fuck you.
On second thought, is it weird that I scheduled a surgery that determines my fertility around lingerie football night? I might have fucked up priorities.
Absolutely not. I would have done the exact same thing.
I like that our conversation ended with "im gonna go get pregnant goodnight"
I just fell off a roof. So I'm kinda chillin for a minute.
Just cuz I'm recovering alcoholic does NOT make me the taxi for you every weekend
I don't know why, but whenever I shave my balls I feel more aerodynamic.
I STUDIED GEOGRAPHY I KNOW THIS SHIT!! DON'T YOU DARE QUESTION MY AUTHORITY ON GLACIAL DEPOSITION AGAIN BITCH!!
Randomize
