In case you were wondering, transporting lube in a ziploc bag is just as bad of an idea as it sounds.
My autobiography is now tentatively titled "I'm Fucking the DJ, and Other Ways to Party for Cheap"
My bed smells like stale sex...I want it to smell like fresh sex, I miss you.
Life Goals: never under any circumstances, pee in an elevator again. No matter how drunk
Please don't pee your pants in the cab. One more time, and im pretty sure the cab companies will refuse to pick you up anymore
seriously, who doesn't want to get shitfaced and have sex to the backstreet boys?
There is a video recording of my birth. I have seen it. It is terrifying.
I told him he was like my favorite pair of jeans; I may not wear them every day, but I'll never get rid of them and they make my ass look fantastic. Needless to say he was not thrilled.
I'm going to CVS to meet the Craigslist guy who is going to buy my underwear. If I don't text you within the next hour, plz assume that I have been abducted by a stranger with an underwear fetish.
My orifices are off limits as long as you have that stache. Your call.
I'm not snubbing your weed I just had a really important rack of ribs to get home to
Leave it to you to bring a trash can into a fist fight.
Just laying in bed, snuggling my cat, and pondering whether I'd like to attend a swingers party this evening...
we're at the bar celebrating my ex bootycall getting his new gf pregnant... and me narrowly escaping a future as kitty foreman
Sent. All. My. Texts. Like. This. Last. Night. Thank. You. Weed. Also. Had. A. Dream. About. A. Serial. Killer. That. Killed. Everyone. Except. Me. And.
Randomize
