Why did I cab home last night?
Because you said you were drunk, sad, and someone called you a hooker.
listening to techno makes your hand move faster while masterbating
he's a nude model. what could you have done to make him feel awkward??
Also, the zoloft kicked in and I can't get an erection anymore. So I'm depressed.
But fine, we can play that game. You can come over and we can have totally platonic, long, boring discussions. Or we can fuck. Whatever.
Yes I have a handle on life. A handle of Svedka.
as soon as I stop standing here with one leg up on my bathroom counter admiring my balls, I'm going to go tan. and then you may come over.
You were sitting in the tub, clothed, squirting my KY all over yourself. You said "it's warm." then passed out.
You turned to me, winked, whispered "man the harpoons" and walked out with the fat chick
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
You slept on a pillow of digiorno
Like I owe him sex. Hell fucking no. I owe myself sex. With a celebrity. Or a clean pornstar. Who knows.
I just got the most majestic image of a potato sack full of dildos getting whipped at your head in slow motion.
I mean. I'm excited for the Seahawks too. I just love nachos.
Between randomly bursting into tears and the reappearance of my lost sex drive, this break up has left me bizarrely damp.
Randomize
