and I'm going to name my autobiography "blow jobs with enthusiasm are the best"
I'm naming my autobiography "Reasons Not to Date Girls From Texas."
Security brought me back to our hotel room in a wheelchair last night. Vegas.
And if you ever tell anyone that I will fucking kill you.
Just found puke on my backpack while sitting in class. It's like this weekend won't leave me alone.
It was a cry at the bar alone type of night, served with a side of passing out facedown in my nachos.
Good news, I found your other leg warmer. Bad news, I don't know if the pile of puke I found it in was yours.
Im on the side of I-10 covered in sweat, cookie dough, hollandaise sauce, onion gravy, and ground beef wondering how my life I ended up here
And then we made magical love in his room under a blacklight as his roommate and girlfriend argued violently in the living room
I really shouldn't be this use to hearing "YOURE THAT GIRL?!?!"
I just gave an orange Froot Loop the finger for falling on the floor instead of my mouth when I was pouring a mini box of cereal into my face.
Dad's already had 6 Zionist conspiracy rants and moms trying to detect any "dark energies" in my soul. You have 4 days before you return to this shit: ENJOY THEM
The guy whose house were at is drunkenly reading green eggs and ham to us in German
I got pulled over by the same cop in a 4.5 hour window. Got off both times. Fuck yes.
I know! It's like he knows when my vagina wants to misbehave!
It's an interesting experience to pee while a bird meows at you.
You need to get out of the house more
So. Um. Hypothetically speaking...how would one get a squirrel out of the house?
Randomize
