There are traffic cones in the living room. One of them is yours.
fine. I googled it. you have to eat 5 to die so apparently I'm in the clear.
he drove an hour to get eggs with me not even a blow job, just eggs.
I feel like none of my dresses scream slut the way I'd like them to
So after I pop out this baby we need to just go on a monthlong coke binge so I can get skinny again before vegas
Theres a picture of you standing next to a John Wayne cardboard cutout that says dont drink and drive. your buddy is shirtless holding a beer and youre holding your keys up with marker on your face.
dude. you ripped the mardi gras beads off the girls neck and yelled she didnt deserve them..
Well he has that kind of carefree attitude that comes from a big penis
I've now spilled wine and got poptarts all over my cast. So much for my doc taking me seriously...
It all went downhill when I figured out I could launch myself into people with my crutches
I'm moving out of my place and I just gave my mom a couch that I had sex on last night. Reduce, reuse, recycle at its best.
She tried deep frying a banana by placing one, unpeeled, into a toaster.
Right now I'm laying face down on my carpet in my living room in the darkness sending work emails from my phone.
It's a glamorous life.
Stranded. In bathroom stall. No toilet paper. I repeat NO TOILET PAPER! Assistance needed asap. GO! GO! GO!
she referred to her cum as “pussy butter” so needless to say we had a good night
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