It's just you. You wear the fuck me fedora and wear baller shorts, hollywood hippie who thinks she is shakira when she's drunk.
Let's just have a brief moment of silence for my dignity before we start tonight
who are you and why are you in my phone as dr. seuss
well hello there hangover. fancy meeting you here on this BRIGHT thursday morning.
On my arm I have 12 dashes, and below is written "plus 2 pretty stout whiskey drinks, so, you be the judge"
We've finally come to the understanding that as long as our conversation stays stricaly sexual, we get along.
its mom's weekend..did we need to couger proof the apt?
it's all just a bunch of faces and i remember what the floor looked like.
Guess who just screamed "Everything happens for a reason!!" in the abortion clinic. This girl.
Maybe it's just my body's way of telling me I don't need pinky toes. Like I'm the next evolutionary leap or something...
She really is something else.
Words cannot describe what though. The best way to describe her is to say it like watching a bear and a whale have sex. You don't know why it's happening or how. But it's rather funny and you can't look away.
Today in French class my teacher was singing "what does the fox say" so i started answering in similar satanic ritual noises
I met his parents. We played twister. My boob popped out.
I need to hire someone full-time to slap food and dick away from me.
someone at the bars was yelling at the bouncer to let him in because he "just passed through the 7 levels of the candy cane forrest" soulmate?
go meet him and give him your number.
Randomize
