it doesn't mae me god, the fact that I am god makes getting dressed futile and tedious... btw i am still drunk
i lost my life and panties somewhere between the 15th and 16th round of slap the bag.
It was like what a highfive between zeus and Jesus would sound like
"Hung over, tired and having a faint scent of some body butter and random pieces of glitter from a girl named gigi, almost arrested in drug bust, $40 Canadian in my pocket and all i got was this lousy Tshirt" shirts dont exist, but they need to
This conversation has now reached a level of awkward that even a passerby streaking hobo couldn't break.
It was the best of bangs; it was the worst of bangs.
He wanted to have sex in a church because he has keys to it from court-ordered community service. WHAT IS STANDARDS?
we didnt plan anything. just randomly met up in the park, both reached into our pockets and each lit up a joint without exchanging words. we're telepathic potheads.
holy shit I just remembered that story I told about Tom hanks going bowling while high.
Blacked out and Irish exited last night. At dinner. On a Sunday.
Earlier today I was eating cookie dough from a tube, now I'm laying naked next to a hot guy watching Pawn Stars in between orgasms. You really can have it all.
I just want cinnabon and vodka.
I’m pretty sure I have teeth marks on my neck
“before I show up tits a blazing, what’s the sexual temperature here?“
she referred to her cum as “pussy butter” so needless to say we had a good night
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