Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
They've started ranking girls from "paper-bag" to "I just came." Please come get me
I hit him with a car. Nothing says I hate you more than backing into someone with a fucking car.
She's the one that asked you what my favorite color was & handed you a piece of bacon
It's only Tuesday and I just measured and checked to see if my 6'5 Friday booty call will fit in the back of my jeep comfortably.
We're walking, taxis are a waste of money that can be spent on alcohol.
Doc gave me something stronger than Xanax. The pills have your last name imprinted on them. This cannot be coincidence.
But I did spend part of my morning scrubbing your cum off my grandmothers piano.
Yeeeaahhh, I'm in no rush to dismiss a level 6 booty-call that pays my bar tabs and understands my Harry Potter obsession.
There's weed in my toothpaste. Explain.
Literally told everyone you're my idol cause you ate a chicken nugget off a sword
Worst case scenario- he paid me for sex with meatloaf. There are worse thing, right? I mean at least is was good meatloaf.
You know you've been on Tinder too long when you're the guy cropped out of the profile pic. Of a woman you're still seeing...
I'm to childless and to single to be asking myself why I'm so sticky
My roommate just yelled at me for coughing. I'd like to yell at her for doing lines off our counter last night.
Randomize
