Let's just say there is a bloody hand print above my bed and it's not mine. Literally.
i'm returning your mother's day gift to finance my alcoholism over the next week.
they're scary. like turkeys that ate nuclear fucking steroids.
Promise me that if I become one of those sad people that facebook pesters you to 'reconnect with' you'll tell me so I can delete mine and save myself the humiliation?
just dropped my bong into 7 pieces, and carried the glass shards around my house. dad saw the blood dripping down my arms, and asked if i slit my wrists. way too high to laugh at this.
he doesnt exactly give off the "im mature enough to use my penis" vibe
Well hey if hot cowboys are involved then all bets are off.
I guess since this is supposed to be my year of the lesbian it's okay
I keep telling girls I work at the carnival and then guessing their weights. I'm pretty sure I'm about to get kicked out.
you ate dog biscuits in front of my dogs and laughed at them for not have opposable thumbs
As a matter of fact, I am on the treadmill with the Bottle of UV Blue as we speak.....
I drank it. I drank the beer from '78. I drank my bday beer, I drank my soul
I'm dipping store brand pepperoni pizza in bacon flavored ranch dressing. Obesity tastes so good.
I shoulda been born a dude. There's too much power in a vagina.
It's very finicky. Like baking. or BDSM.
Randomize
