apparently my drunken alterego is a lazyeyed bisexual.
No, I'm a firm believer in "Swallow or it isn't love."
260 beers this month. I need a new hobby.
i feel like i was in a swimming pool of captain and coke and had to drink my way out
Escaped ambulance. Meet me at your apartment.
No. I want to vom filet mignon and ziti bits everywhere and my body feels like I ran a cock triathalon. I feel less triumphant and more like death.
I'm starting to think my role in the world is to inject batshit crazy, mentally unbalanced chicks with a dose of normal sperm.
We need to talk about the sailor moon porn. Do what you want in your room, but I don't want to come home to you cranking it on the couch to that.
I rather not break my neck. It's hard to look sexy with a neck cast.
I can't find the remote or the Doritos. Someone call 911. S.O.S. I sent this in Braille.
So that advice that humming stops you from puking? Yeah no, just puked through my nose.
She said she was hoping I'd be hotter. I told her I didn't see anybody standing in line to titty fuck her either. She was a great kisser.
I lost my bra, he lost his virginity. Seems like a fair trade off.
Damn you. I'm in a bar with Southern Jesus Fearing Blah Blah Rednecks WHO ARE PROBABLY VOTING FOR TRUMP and you go radio silent.
PS: bike ride of shame at 7am includes riding by kids waiting for the school bus #classy
Randomize
