this is a mass text: i just made a grilled cheese with an iron and pasta with the coffeemaker in the hotel room. bow before your new god.
After we had sex he bought me grape soda. I think I'll keep him.
Also I feel like 60% of our relationship is based on sausage mcmuffins.
You've got the short couch unless you find some girl to take you home
Challenge accepted.
This is how we made chicken soup last night: Whole chicken in a pot of vodka with a box of crackers and some carrots. We should go pro.
Doctorate. Vaginahole. Cinnamon. Rainbow. Fill in the blanks in the morning.
I just don't know about this life anymore. Quite frankly I think I belong up there in the great blue, lounging on a cloud sippin tea with Jesus
I'm wearing a suit and have no chance of getting laid or robing a casino. I consider this opportunity a failure
I grinded with the guy who brought the scooter, I'm leaving with success
Being hungover in this office is the actual worst. Like they look at me and know I was wasted at 1 am, karaokeing Billy Idol at a gay bar.
It feels appropriate that the wallet of my high school and college years would die at the hands of a spilled bong. Which in and of itself is a solid metaphor for those years.
Just threw up in a baggy on the airplane. The guys next to me clapped and bought me a jack and coke.
Livin the dream
should i feel bad about fucking you on my front lawn the day before you set me up with your best friend?
i've got three words. i. was. spanked.
He graduated. He’s not my GA anymore. He’s just the 24 year old that’s helping me put a sexless marriage in the rear view mirror by exploring the Kama sutra with me
Randomize
