the Monday before Thanksgiving is not a Monday at all. Just Thursday in Monday suit.
When I start puking tomorrow, just let me be. it'll start around 8:35. just let me heave. i love this part of my morning.
and i fell asleep on top of a grilled cheese sandwich. not the best decision. but not the worst.
I'm functioning at the level of a challenged walrus.
You're not required to sleep with every guy that spends $10 on you.
Tequila me may have very bluntly told him that I wanted to touch his abs.
I would have publicly shamed him but I'm pretty sure his tramp stamp did that on its own...
I'm officially no longer allowed to make any of my own decisions regarding alcohol, men, or the combination of both. Thats up to you now. Do me proud.
hitting rock bottom is getting taziki in your hair & simply putting it in a bun instead of actually dealing with it, just like your problems
Ive never seen a drunk man get suplexed before last week, now its the standard requirement every time we go out.
Also I just had a pointless meeting and the only thing I accomplished were my kegals
there is partying, then there is whatever we did last night.
This is a long quiet interstate without somebody to sext.
He grabbed at it like it was a stress ball or something. It's a boob, not a grapefruit. The fuck.
Are you sure you found YOUR underwear?
Randomize
