we're blogging at a bar
my mom just walked in on me furiously masturbating while reading twilight. needless to say, im officially out of the closet.
you yelled "you will never make love to jesus" and then ran into the tv.
He was singing Will Smith Just the Two of Us to his burrito. That high.
I made popcorn. Partly so the room doesn't smell like sex, and partly to apologize for the things you saw when you walked in...
the only evidence i have from this weekend existing is a title page for a novel i tried writing called "the oyster who gave up drinking"
He got violent drunk so we have to untie him in the morning. He's in your basement and you're out of electrical tape. Don't forget because I will.
If you're in the liquor store 5 minutes before close, and you have to ask the cashier for a coin to flip to make a life decision because "vodka takes you to a bad place," you need to reevaluate your life.
My heart says buy the granny panties, but my vagina says don't throw in the towel yet.
So I pass out narcotics if its a girl?
Dude, if that was the MLB player I think it was leaving your bedroom this morning please tell me you got his autograph. It could pay the rent for like six months.
I feel like I don't show you my boobs enough. And you deserve to see them like all the time
Then James put his arms through the window and grabbed him, like he was Robocop. A nerdy, portly Robocop.
Who is this?
Whoever said it shouldn't take a man to make you happy clearly wasn't having sex everyday.
I told him I wanted to get on him and ride him to Montana. It didnt end like i thought it would.
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