Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
question: from what angle do you give a hand job. im confused..
If I had a nickel for every time my parents threatened to stop paying tuition I would be a very rich man. Rich enough to pay my own tuition.
at what point did you see referring to the bartender as 'the white precious' a good idea??
his blanket is still in the back seat of my car, its like a constant reminder of his small penis
You. Me. A bottle of Vodka. The wilderness.
You texted me 'I am the leopard prince', with a series of pictures of you posing in what seemed like cat poses. you were not "a little bit" drunk dude..
Nothing quite says Coachella like me doing high yoga in the middle of a field by myself
I know more about this girls vagina than I know about her personality
Im in my back seat in my own drive way with two beers left to shotgun and watching the sunrise. Am I over her yet?
Waking up in a NH rest stop and reading through my texts is definitely a familiar low
if anyone knows where my shirt is please let me know and if you know why I don't have my own shirt please also let me know. also do any of you know why I'm missing a bra wire?
I'm not sure how to explain it, but I feel like our penises have a connection. Like long lost brothers. We're not even gay.
My neighbor is burning all of her ex's things in a metal drum outside the window. Guess who's going to make a new friend?
p.s i need to stop drunk texting my mom. she brings up text convos all the time and i have no idea what shes talking about...
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