What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
seriously i just wanna be friends
pass
She introduced herself as 'Ann the sober one.' Took me to a coat check and a lost and found. Then offered coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Turns out she's been paying her half of the electric bill running post-party operations.
He doesn't belong with God. He belongs face-down in a pile of his own excrement, vomit, blood and semen. Then pissed on by Satan.
I think, at this point, getting pissed and declaring my love via reality TV would be an improvement
There were four people in the car. The girls sure know how to blow. I think we almost crashed when the driver climaxed.
Actually let's just focus our energy on not getting committed to a psych ward.
Don't blame me. My vagina leads me astray.
it's gotten to the point where I just look in my closet, think, "which article of clothing behaves most like a towel?" and then just go with that
Summers almost over and we haven't golfed, got naked or had sex yet. Let's do all three in one day, no particular order.
please remind me of this if i ever start out a night declaring my goal is to see how much american honey it takes for me to forget who i am again
Last year you twerked on my Christmas tree and threw up all over the bathroom...in front of my parents. We should probably keep power hour to ONLY an hour this year
He says it takes a lot to subdue the urge to just bury his face in my vagina. Of course, I have absolutely no problem with this.
Observations from Vegas: #1. Strippers pasties pose a choking hazard. #2. Best. Heimlich. Ever.
Did you ask Harvard boi?
Apparently he likes someone who is into being smart and a supporter of human rights ugh what a skank
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