I am at a striph cluv. They are ovealls everywhere. I have hot rock botto.
he just spelled fiance, "pheancie". I dont think he's ready to get married.
I queefed so loud it echoed.
To celebrate your birthday last night, I got drunk and sang drift away in buffalo wild wings. Happy birthday. The entire bar sang the chorus with me. It was magical.
I dont even remember coming home... All my stuff is strewn randomly around my apartment... And I woke up at 5 sitting propped up in my bed with just my arm in a shirt
I offered to buy ihop waffles for all the homeless people outside the metro. It was time to go to bed.
The acoustics in my bra are fantastic.
You know what, don't even answer. Just promise me you'll go to the Corner of Shame when you get home.
In the mean time, I'll continue to kick ass at running and become a successful stripper while he might hook up with one average looking girl he met at a club. I so win.
I think he has some internal "man stuff" that keeps getting in the way.
Like alcoholism and general douchbagary.
He got me off while watching hockey. He's a keeper.
I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I blew a Trump supporter.
My hook-up from last week somehow found me at the club, saw the girl I was trying to fuck, kissed me right in front of her, and walked off.
I just realized I'm not wearing clothes. I think my pants may be in the kitchen but I have no idea where my shirt is. I'm kinda worried.
Dad danced on top of the bar with me last night. And has a video of me doing a beer bong.
Randomize
