She was drunk and kept trying to talk while I was in her mouth. It sounded like the teacher from a Charlie Brown cartoon!
Motorboating on a tuesday night. not too shabby....
The only thing that would make my night better is if William Shatner came and read me a bedtime story.
Sign #1 that I'm not ready to be a mother: I'm shopping for "maternity fishnets".
It's 11am on 4/20 and I'm already in urgent care.
I don't remember much of last night. But I woke up with very apologetic texts from him this morning so apparently I didn't get laid. Which is stupid.
You're the third person who's asked me for an afternoon blow connection in one day. Unreal.
That's more of a you-issue than a me-issue
But the guy you're fucking should not be within ten pounds of your weight when you're five fucking feet tall and he's 6'2". That's all I'm saying.
I'm just over here all sober hanging with two high people talking about how they're "free-spirited stallions."
My mom just told me the story of how she met my dad through prison. How was your saturday?
Did you know that taking off a bra with teeth burns ninty calories?
The fact that me being able to walk down stairs is an accomplishment in my books pretty much explains how I am
I feel like I owe her child an apology or something after blowing my load on the tattoo she has of her.
That amount of times your family has seen my boobs is getting ridiculous.
My dog misses eating marshmallows out of your butt when you're passed out. That bordered on sex abuse, now that I think about it. My bad.
Randomize
