My mind said no, but my drink said yes.
On an unrelated note: I'm also a big advocate of the "never waste a boner" theory.
He passed out. Woke up long enough to declare himself "the sauce boss" and then bit me in the face.
My life is a joke. Told everyone last night that they could call me Mrs. McCormick because I'm gonna end up alone with a handle of peach vodka anyways.
Okay I know I said I was going to quit drinking for a while but apparently pumpkin pie flavored vodka is a thing and I will not rest until I have some.
I tried to roll down the stairs in a ball. I have bruises, the pain is too much.
What the fuck, why would you ever do that?
Haven't you ever just wanted to be a ball?
I feel as if we moved beyond the hook up stage when she blew me as I drunkenly finished my chicken nuggets.
I was kind of torn between "Wow, this is awkward," and "Wow, my therapist is hung."
Why are your underwear on my dining room table?
Cooked. Eating pizza. Didn't have a napkin so I took my shirt off and I'm using it.
I made out with a guy dressed as the pdx airport carpet.
Portlandia didn't prepare you for that?
It's becoming clear to me that I am not sugar baby material. I don't think I could handle old balls long term.
What did you give up for lent?
Diet and excersize. And I'm never going back...
I dont know. He's too private. After you fuck him find out his secrets.
My vagina! What have you done to it?
Blessed it my child.
Randomize
