I think I just was a dick to Paul Rudd.
It's an acquired taste. Like keystone. Or caviar.
I'm promising sexual favors in return for his responsible life decisions. Now THIS is growing up.
I thought stuff was gonna go really bad after he filled the super-soaker with kerosene. but it all turned out pretty well.
He's reached the drunk point where he's trying to convince the family to buy falcons as pets. Can't wait to see how my steak turns out
I sold weed for gas money to get home. I thought that's what college was for.
Just got a voicemail from a guy referring tp himself "as chest hair guy". If I'm coming home to a intervention I understand.
Where the hell did all of these gingers come from? It's like they crawled out of their shame-caves for st Patrick's day.
I feel like there should be a database and you screen your boyfriend's scrotum and all the fucked up shit they've done goes on file.
Just tried to dig out holes in my mattress for my boobs so I could be comfortable lying down on my stomach
As much as I enjoyed playing drunk half naked twister and talking about my daddy issues last time, I'll have to pass.
some how during sex we caught an ENTIRE pillow on fire. A WHOLE PILLOW.
I was going to learn how to knit but I got high instead.
I have one goal now that I am in the USA. To find a man I can fuck into marriage before my visa runs out.
I'll text you when I have a mental breakdown about it.
Please do.
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