toast her oven
toast her strudel
inspect her gadget
Michael Bay diarrhea
so last night my mother drunkenly told me that maybe the reason why I want to be a vet was because I was conceived doggy style.
VODKAVODKAVODKAYESSSS
My feelings are currently in a sea of vodka and "I don't give a shit"
Aren't they always?
Apparently I really was petting a bunny named lazarus in Jimmy Johns last night.
She said I had a really great aura. Which I think is hippie code for "I bet you can give me a mind melting orgasm"
I found out his moms name, maiden name, profession, and office location, his dads name and profession, his home phone, picture of their house, all of his work profiles, and the cost of their house. All I'm trying to do is find his damn twitter
Promise me you will not let me do anything sexual with or to a mini horse no matter how drunk we get. Ever.
Well you were hungry, by then you cried and called yourself a basic bitch for eating crackers
Got to work this morning and thought... Did I really dance on that pole last night
It's has to do with my genitals. Don't ask.
we're forecasting high levels of inebriation into the evening with dropping temperatures late at night
wyd
Laying here debating on if i want a sandwich or an orgasm.
All I know is I woke up in the back seat of my car, with the engine on, and my gps navigated to florida.
Randomize
