Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
i said send nudes i get bra and panties. thats not what i fucking asked for.
I just saw a girl walking home wearing a tshirt, boxers, and cowboy boots. Thanks for having the decency to drive me to my car.
Just saw Youth in Revolt. There are only so many times Michael Cera can lose his virginity.
Just realized how sopa could affect my ability to watch porn, son of a bitch
I pulled my bra outta my purse. Covered in honey mustard. I still lack an explanation.
She spilled creme de menthe on her crotch and I told her she looked like a menstruating Vulcan (costume idea!). Obviously, I went home alone.
I feel like a cloud. A cloud that wants to be laid.
She said pants are for pussies while spooning peanut butter onto her frosted flakes with a serving spoon. She's not even high yet.
I fell on my face, puked, and had to be rocked to sleep in a hammock. I'd say Europe is a success
I think I have to break up with him. I just cried, not moaned, screamed, etc, cried, with tears of sadness and disappointment when I came.
we're like the harlem globetrotters of underage drinking
Should I tell him how he got the bruise on his ass or just enjoy his theories?
You'll love it there. Trust me. Cheap tequila, pretentious beer, tall white guys who will treat you badly. Its got everything you like.
I mean, drunk me really liked him, maybe sober me will too. Who am I to deny fate?
Randomize
