So how was he last night?
Five-minute foot-long.
i'm watching a show about a girl who died from masterbating with a carrot. A FUCKING CARROT, EMILY! YOU NEED TO BE CAREFUL!
Now I know how you felt every time you had to listen to me have sex with a girl... mildly disguested yet marginally proud.
What I wanna know is who took a picture eiffel towering her?
I am too drunk to make real decisions. I had pop rocks all over my ass earlier. This is not a joke.
He gave me an elaborately handwritten invite (on a bar coaster) back to his place and whispered in my ear 'i have ping pong'. And he said byob. fuck THAT.
That's exactly how my pussy feels when I shave it. Like a cross between a naked mole rat and a newborn child. Embrace it.
You made a glowstick headband with a helium balloon tied around it and climbed a tree in high heels. I was impressed.
When I see myself in tank tops and push up bras I seriously wonder why I'm not President.
You were discovered in a bush, smoking, and singing "in the jungle" to yourself. Which explains the scratches, but not the orange paint.
My yoga ball is now going to be used for actual exercise instead of somewhere to suction cup a dildo
I brought her cheeseburgers and tequila but she's still mad at me.
HAMMERED.. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with toilet paper instead of bread...
yeah, i thought because of the nature of his job he would have been better at it, but i guess there's a difference between a bagpipe and vagina
Couch. On fire.
Randomize
