Eating hibachi. The chef is squirting sake into my mouth with a ketchup bottle. Happened twice, more to come.
I heard from multiple reliable sources that she doesn't have a gag reflex. Of course I'm going to try to go home with her.
I just did my online traffic school at the bar. No biggie.
We had to put his head at the bottom of the driveway so the puke would run down. Now he's sleeping outside.
i distinctly remember leaping through the apartment to rescue the clam chowder burning in the kitchen
she told me to hold the wheel while she hung out the sunroof and cursed the old lady behind us out.
I just encountered the same creepy guy I showed you, he jumped inside the dumpster screaming.
But we only had three ninja turtles. So everyone that would ask us where Donatello was, we would say "what? He's gone? Shredder is at it again!"
I dunno I mean I feel like I owe everyone an apology except the two people I punched in the face
well all i have to say, besides fuck you, is YOU try assembling ikea shelves while high on molly.
Cancelling your gym membership calls for alcohol.
It's hard to talk dirty with a mouth full of peanut butter
Also, apparently I'm only coherent when I'm drunk sexting. And then I'm grammatically perfect and impressively eloquent.
Bowls and Harry Potter this morning. I guess work isn't so bad after all
operation Bang Australian Boy = oh so successful
Randomize
