we were both hunting dick last night. it ended terribly for both of us.
they say celebs die in threes. leave it to billy mays to throw in one extra COMPLETELY FREE!
The only thing I have to prove last night happened is a fireman's hat full of puke.
I got to stop making out with my boss at work. I think we should just get it overwith, be dissaponted and move on.
Is it mean that I just sent him a pic of my tits with the header, "say bye bye?"
No, this is non-alcoholic oatmeal.
My name in their phones is "That Girl". If i can't get it to go away, I might as well live up to it.
I should know better than to trust a man I've seen cry on multiple occasions to give me accurate sports information.
I'm just gonna yell "SURPRISE ME" and see what happens. No way this could go wrong
Let's just says his mouth writes a lot of checks that his penis just can't cash. Don't waste your time.
The stock is going waaaaay up on that picture of my pussy with a bowtie on it.
Do you know how close I got to throwing him over the edge of the canyon?
I can't control his boners. I can only encourage them.
He made her leave because she liked Top-Ramen better than Maruchaun. He's my hero.
Oh man. I threw up in the first cab. Got kicked out. Roamed somewhere for awhile. Fell asleep in the back if the second cab. Woke up in my underwear on the living room floor with a frozen pizza (thawed) laying next to me
Randomize
