Me. At least after what I've been through.
You were so hammed, you asked your buddy in Economics to plot a demand curve for Parmesan Cheese.
it was literally the size of a crayloa marker. i didnt know what to do with it so i just sat there
I have absolutely nothing sober to say to you.
He told me he breastfed 'til he was six. That explains the obsession with me getting fake tits. Is it a red flag?
He told me that I smelled like a Glade Plug-in, then sang the Menard's jingle in it's entirety in between kissing me.
I think I'm just going to up-end a bottle of wine and look through pictures of what my life used to be.
Drunk enough that you donated $50 to taco bell, because they serve a great purpose.
Well it's like a wise man once told me: "If you're going to shave your balls, don't do it hungover."
How bad would it be if I asked him for my "ho ho ho" thong back? They're my fav christmas pair!
I now have a bottom rung on my kissing scale. Like I can say "Well. On a scale of Matt to Braxton he was probably a Zach." It's the little things.
So I just stirred my shower drink with my razor.
I'm not going to ask which end you used.
I peed sitting down because I knew standing was a lost cause
I'm about to eat a honey mustard chicken salad on the toilet while I try to shit. You really think I care about what "kind of guy he is?" The fuck out of here.
If you don't care, I don't. Good luck finding prince charming.
After we hooked up he started to cry and called his mom and told her he wanted to marry me
Randomize
