The good thing about walking home in a dress on sunday morning is that people mistake my walk of shame as a walk to God.
i just woke up in the woods behind my house in handcuffs and a dan marino jersey ive never seen before
i'm stoned. there's a jazz trio playing outside across the street...scared that mike myers will appear & start yelling 'woman...WHOA MAN. WHOOOA MAN.' i'm snapping my fingers.
Capitaan dildo arrescate!
so apparently telling her she could shit easier and therefore lose weight faster wasn't the best arguement for getting anal.
Working on an important paper into the wee hours of the morning, and every time I type the word "situation," I can't help but think of effing Jersey Shore. Those guidos are now ruining my academic life.
I don't talk to her anymore. I lit her birthday presents on fire. Who the fuck puts candles that close to tissue paper?
i think you walked me home, then i felt bad for putting you through the trouble so i walked you home...i'm not sure how i got home after that.
Was that not clear on Friday when I nearly deapthroated two ice cubes?
We ran out of wine so we are trying the absinthe you brought over from Spain like 3 years ago. Please call me at noon tomorrow. If we die, its your fault
I'm back here naked if anyones wondering
White people are beatboxing! Save me.
We just taught the Brazilian how to smoke out of a vuvuzela.
Not after That Night. No. I hate tequila. And it hates me. Very mutual hateship going on.
from across the room i saw you look into your beer and whisper "i love you"
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