So yesterday I was on craigslist and I saw a listing for a sofa-cum-bed. I knew what they meant...
I just woke up. In the port-o-potty next to our tailgate. an hour after the game started. explain.
I made her dinner: Beefaroni with grated parmesan cheese on top. Luckily she showed up drunk and gave me head, "For spending so much time preparing."
I already wrote the apology to my liver. He knows whats up
Hey if there is a better reason to go drink then "I've been fucking robbed!" I have yet to hear one. Also, I've been fucking robbed.
I'm the saddest girl in a tutu right now.
I hope my orgasm sounds aren't secretly that bad and no one tells me
How does this dude know what a dying walrus sounds like? That's the real question
Casually brushing the Bacardi out of my hair. It's a good time to ponder regretting everything that happened last night.
Although I would ideally cut back on smoking weed, imagine what getting high and looking for our spirit animals would be like
I've literally already typed in by booty call text for friday night. all I have to do now is wait for is drunk me to press send
theres too many punctuation errors in that text to turn me on.
And my nipple is sore from him biting it. That is not a complaint.
A homeless man gave him a blanket and an ambulance drove him to sarahs...
You did things that should be illegal to a Twinkie and asked strangers to drive you home.
Where you at? Come home and endure this shit show called "The Second Presidential Debate".
Randomize
