Tampa is so boring. I'm dying. I want lots of cleavage at my funeral. If i cant get laid, i want my friends to. I'm that kind of person
I was so high last night. I wrote a poem about my salt shaker
Just beat my spinning in office chair record. Almost puked. Totally worth it.
And there I was, sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, my fingers covered in peanut butter.
My mom is purposely blasting Shania Twain downstairs so I can't jack off.
I owe you 20 bucks. My blood work did show liver damage.
Some clips from last night: grinded like I haven't since college. Took shots with a bartender with a bad ass mustache. Made up a string of lies with fake names and occupations. Slept behind the couch with pizza in my hand
I could not actually bring myself to utter the phrase "donkey cock" in front of my father. Not possible.
i officially have over $300 in my bank account. that's a year's worth of chipotle.
I picked up a chick last night on crutches wearing a I am boobman tshirt. I love raves.
Competitive oral. I'm always telling girls they are only the fourth, maybe third, best blowjob I've had. They go back down with something to prove.
Last night I got drunk on margaritas at an Irish pub and came home with only one shoe. I have to get my shit together.
You really know how to show Monday who's boss.
I fell asleep giving a handjob, had a sex dream about giving a handjob, and woke up giving a handjob. Life.
Woah don't start going all boyfriend on me now, you're here for one thing and one thing only and that's sex, hot shameless sex.
No I didn't say it was safe, I said it was legal. I didn't say anything about it being safe. It's not my fault if you weren't listening properly.
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