I don't want to talk about it. He was like the Little Engine that couldn't get me off.
I feel like people whose favorite movie is Donnie Darko should not be allowed to talk. Ever.
She tried catching cigarette ashes on her tongue like snowflakes.
I can't. I can't get out. He cooked me food. And made me jager bombs. And painted a glow in the dark smilie face on my boobs
So many lesbians keep hitting on me. I'm about to give up and just go home with the manliest one.
Weird we were more concerned with sharing our germs than tag teaming the blow job?
We're sitting in his room writing songs about America. There's a verse about a dead dog. There's tequila everywhere.
You leave me no choice. Your vagina is grounded. It can just sit there and think about what it's done.
We got security called on us. Apparently the wedding down the street didn't appreciate the trespassing or our loud as fuck rendition of We Are Young.
Plus I'm pretty sure you said "love you" on the phone, so technically I should be putting you on some type of probation
I'm not allowed to have sex with him again. My vagina joined in on the protest. There was a petition. All my body parts signed it.
What shade of lipstick clearly states, I'm only attending this wedding for the drugs and groomsmen?
just found out that my aunt grows weed. today is a good day to be me.
I was so drunk I got stuck in the middle of a revolving door
Getting high with your mom, but thinking of you!
Randomize
