there's paper in my vomit.
Probably should plan this out. Step one: grow stache. Two: get trenchcoat. Three: Kidnap Selena Gomez.
I had better be fucking involved with step four.
Just found 50 pesos and a coke spoon in my dads old shit. Gotta love the 70s
I want to tell you about my weekend in person so I can see your look of judgement and disgust.
He's like Medusa, you can't look directly into his eyes or you'll turn into a slut.
It's like I'm snorkeling in an ocean of tequila.
I fell into his fridge. I want to leave.
Where are you in relation to the mariatchi band?
So I have to send you an email about my weekend, heretofore referred to as The Perfect Weekend. Wherein I have lots of awesome sex with a guy with THE MOST AMAZING BODY.
I look forward to this email. I will respond with, Condoms and Creepers: The Adventures of Online Dating.
I don't want sex or anything I just really need someone to appreciate how shiny my hair is
That's not "anything", that's you deep throating a mozzarella stick.
I felt like I should've driven him home but I was holding in a fart and just needed him to leave
He ain't mine yet. Gotta have a third date before I pee on him and mark territory.
Oh. Wait. That happened on the second date.
You're going to replace me with a robot made of heating blankets and a vibrator?
I hummed the theme from jaws while she was taking the pregnancy test....needless to say she was not pleased
Randomize
