I even made an effort to dress like a conservative young lady who doesnt black out and throw up in her bed regularly today.
I made a game called come to class high and eat nachos.
You filled up my voicemail with a slurred but graphic depiction of how you were humping a fire hydrant.
I need to throw up and die. The order doesn't matter. I feel like shit
Seriously. All i can say is im covered in mud, my jaw hurts, i cannot straighten my arm, egg is everywhere, and there is a dead squirrel.
On the way out the door to work grabbed the wine glass on the floor left for the ghost of Elijah and chugged it. PASSOVER.
You need to be full form and virile tomorrow so I can live vicariously through your rub and tug.
He yearns for your heart.
He needs to stop being a pussy about it.
All I want is to get as high as I did that time I started hallucinating that my brother was becoming a monkey and I saw my mum on every surface of your room.
I don't need to know how horny your mother is, hun.
As long as you keep bringing fries home, i'll keep being naked when you get home
I think one make out session at a bar per year is probably the best choice.
To get him to come she paid for his uber and promised that someone in the house would give him head. it worked
she is currently in the shower drinking a beer and dancing to a song called "the penis song" my roommate is cooler than yours
You're a brave, albeit stupid soul for wanting in on the fuckery that comes attached to my vagina
Randomize
