no more stoned jack in the box. this is the third night in a row.
i find it simply astounding you spelled drunken wrong but pterodactyl right
I couldn't walk, so he carried me all the way home; and then I told him that I wasn't drunk enough to fuck him. Poor kid.
Sophomore year, I fucked on your desk chair. I'm sorry. I love you.
there is nothing like a happy birthday present when you wake up with a bow on your vagina.
I brought his matress to the living room we're laying on it listening to rick james drinking vodka
That would warm my breasts.
In this context breast is a metaphor for soul.
I swear 95% of pictures on my phone are from drunken nights I don't remember with me doing a peace sign alone in somebody's bedroom.
He's a forty-something balding gay man with no boundaries or sense of social norms. Of course we should befriend him.
i think i just encouraged him to glue googly eyes to my boobs
Dougie got over his pride nerves. Found him dancing on a float wearing nothing but rainbow boxers.
Is it weird that the best sex I've ever had was to Barbara Streisand's Christmas album?
I may be a feminist, but I am not above using my body to distract you if it means I might beat you in a game of scrabble.
I planned out my poor life choices for the weekend.
Do you ever go take a shit and end up sitting on the toilet for like 45 minutes wondering what the fuck you're doing with your life?
Everyday my friend, everyday.
Randomize
