I'm buying this stripper a house, I don't care what her name is.
P.S. I can't hear my feet
i'm writing my speech about my 4th grade backstreet boy concert experience. that sums up how seriously i take my life.
It's been two weeks and I still have carpet burns on my knees. Well done.
I might come over. Something about you makes me matronly and I have this urge to nurse you back to health with soup and a blowjob
Contents of my pockets this morning: phone, condom, one hoop earring, half a cheeseburger, lighter and a $87 receipt from tacobell. Time for work.
In other news, someone I've had sex with won jeopardy last night.
Drunk naked twister. My place. Heath is trying to use his dick as a third leg.
Used my brand new sperrys as a trash can to throw up in and woke up with someone's random key in my hair...new year new me:)
I definitely don't have enough experience with hookers to be in this group text anymore.
If you recall, I made a Zoolander reference almost immediately after you pulled out of me the first time we had sex.
my mom talks about my drinking like its a problem and yet this morning she fills me a solo cup with champagne for the shower.
It is getting ridiculous, the elaborateness of the schemes I have to concoct so my suitemates don't know I'm pooping.
Once you find out someone has a small dick, you never look at them the same again.
I feel like I got hit by a car. But a small car, like a Beetle or a Mini or something.
Randomize
