Maybe I lied like you did about your herpes.
how's this sound. You, me a box of pink franzia and a night full of possibilities in your basemen. I'll be me. You be you. And we'll see where it goes
eating raw peppers to burn the taste of semen out of my mouth
he kept doing his monologue, "if a vagina could talk."
Not enough. Tell the person next to you to give you their drink. I give you permission. And then chug it. Be a hero tonight.
You know it's bad when I can already feel tomorrow's hangover before even drinking today.
Somehow ended up home, probably had something to do with the makeshift ladder from my second story window. Now headed to church, still drunk, and still fighting back the vomit of a thousand different alcohols. Successful night.
I just compared his sexting to a plate of spaghetti. And he STILL wants to sleep with me.
We're about to play the try not to vom at the president's house game...
he just left the suite without pants on wrapped in Christmas lights
I’m not closing myself off the to the possibility of making a bad life choice.
Is it ironic that our divorce court is a block from where we had our reception? Or is it just sad? Alanis has confused my understanding of irony.
I cant believe you made me read bad furry sexts
At about 2:30 i found you passed out in my closet with your face covered in cheese whiz
maybe you should have closed the porn before you gave the professor your computer to hook up to the projector?
Randomize
