Passing las posas road. In a world of pain. Im trying to piss in a bottle through the hole in my crotch. I wish i had a bigger dick.
I dont know why I dont listen to you more often. He wont stop texting me. And his signature is "dancing with no panties on"
i just sold back the books i vomitted on
I really should sober up and deal with this hangover
It seems to be one of those life decisions I'm perfectly content never making though
Dude, we took our shirts off and set our chest hair on fire. That's a low point.
You raise a valid concern
I'm pretty sure he told me he was sterile and I told him I was on the pill. The positive pregnancy test I'm holding in my hand right now tells me that at least one of us was lying.
Walking down the street trying to find the pants I had on last night
If I ever write a book, i'm calling it "why do i work with fucktards?"
It'll be a good sequel to my other book, "why do i sleep with fucktards?"
Like do you realize his dealer came out with a gun and we laughed like it was all just fun and games...
The only thing he had going for him was mad fingering skills. the ONLY thing. crayons have a wider circumference.
She brought over her portable harddrive and we dueled with porn. This relationship is too beautiful to last.
I have a fantastic sense of humor but being called a merman isn't funny
I'm committing myself to dance. Also, I'm unsure if you said space party sounded lame because dude was old, but I hope you're over it because I love space, and I love David Bowie and I love to dance, and you need to embrace this with me.
i spent my Thursday drinking before noon and not wearing pants
I woke up in his closet, with my shirt inside out and backwards, Rolos in my hand, a tortilla with a face carved into it stuck to the fridge with a magnet, a homemade bong next to the bed, and the door off the hinges... I need a chaperone.
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