wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooo i'm drink
he is the anna nicole to my 90 year-old billionaire. i'm grateful that he's fucking me, so i'm buying him shit.
Nothing quite says America like barbecue and beer at 9 in the morning.
in my lab write-up should i mention that i watered my plant with tequila?
Trust me. My penis has made more than enough decisions this weekend.
The packers need to win more often, Andrew keeps drunk calling me and confessing his undying love for me in between puking and taking more shots.
Oh it's not a problem. Cleaning up the yard and disposing of 75 gallons of Jello is all I've got to look forward to today.
I have a theory that years from now they will be with women who despise me because of what I trained their husbands to like.
I need to immerse myself in a tub of peroxide to kill whatever traces of him are on me.
I have an ideal penis or slightly above ideal penis in every country that isn't ruined by the specter of communism
I was covered in mud from my knees down, I smelt like the inside of a port-a-potty and only had mascara on one eye. . . so you know your usual Sunday brunch.
it was an ACCIDENT
it was a DICK
I woke up to him crying and pouring pixy stix in my mouth saying they would bring me back to life.
You should of known that i was high if i refer to myself as melting into anything
I'm unsure if I could pee myself at this point in my life
Randomize
