So I just had this crazy idea, and no it has nothing to do with the fact that they made me take shots at work.
From now on, just let me go home. I'm tired of hooking up with your roommates... Including you.
He says he's "masters drunk." And if that's anything like "kentucky derby drunk" I know enough to not go over there.
We have a drunk bartender with her nips a quarter inch from bein out buying us shots. GET HERE.
You just said the magic words
I'll be accepting presents in the forms of drinks, drugs, and orgasms. So any or all of those will be fine.
I hope you don't have to start the day explaining to me how you failed to turn "Can I practice my belly dancing in your apartment" into all night sex.
You stumbled in the house, mumbled something about a cheese party, grabbed a block of cheese and the whiskey, and left.
There's strippers and bear every where so ether you gave me the wrong address or this is the coolest birthday party thrown for a seven year old ever.
If she has AMC, I may have to fuck her today. I want to catch up on the walking dead.
I found his belly button lint in my hair. Can't say it was worth it.
Nah, just ran around, pinned random men to walls, bit their lips of and booked it.
Don't act like you're not jealous that I disappeared into the closet to blow my husband. Marriage = all the cock I want.
He fucks like those drill things that you see when you think of texas
I'm sobbing to NWA
I refuse to shit my pants for anyone except Cher and Christina Aguilera!
Randomize
