I smell stomach acid.
I woke up this morning under my fitted sheet and my legs through the sleeves of my sweater.
Hurry up. We're trading phones to prevent drunk texting.
I could see myself reflected in his wedding band as i was going down on him.
He asked me if I could call his penis destroyer... Uhh SOS.
I do not want to do anything. The words more tequila need to be erased from my vocabulary
you referred to yourself as the crossing guard because of your neon shirt and began directing bar traffic
sitting in the bathroom telling some girl to keep puking or she will die. while holding a beer. nursing school rocks.
It's ok, I like adventure. Just ask my vagina.
Pretty sure that propositioning you to fly across the country for sex fest '13 isn't something my husband would approve of.
I don't think I've ever met a guy with a bush bad enough that I would choose a cactus over it.
I keep finding Kraft singles in his pockets. Honestly, this is the weirdest family I've ever worked for.
I thought I needed to get laid. Turns out I just needed pasta.
I'm telling you, I 'm beginning to think that my vagina is magical.
Ok, as his sister I didn't tell you this but he's very familiar with pregnancy symptoms. So next time he calls you fat freak him the hell out by asking if your ankles look swollen.
Randomize
