he woke me up at 3 am to ask me where my plunger, a towel, and staples were. i'm afraid to go into my bathroom.
this boner is fucking legendary. i should name it and celebrate its birthday every year
I don't know how many crown and cokes he went through but I know it was more that I have fingers. We are never leaving Texas.
Is it obsessive that I keep picking my crazy sex rug burn scab so it leaves a scar I can remember him by?
I've done unspeakable things to your penis. I have every right to give it a name.
Breaking hearts and overdosing on semen. That's my life.
keep an eye on me. i'm afraid that after a few more drinks i'll ask to borrow his wheelchair.
My vibrator challenges you to a duel.
My neck kind of hurts. I think from sleeping on the concrete.
Who knows. I'd probably only get a makeout with an OTPHJ from her so the return on sexual investment from her isn't looking that great.
Are the transvestites working the counter tonight? Last time I was there they gave me love advice.
I dont' remember leaving St. Cloud, getting home, or apparently directing traffic in the middle of the fucking street while black out drunk.
i feel like spreading the word of drunken joy.
I need to start using my boobs for good instead of weed. Although really they're kind of the same thing
Why is there a whip in the kitchen?
Randomize
