I'm not looking forward to the waking up early part. Or actually the wedding part. Or the reception part. But I am looking forward to the meaningless sex with some random guy I meet at the reception part.
I'm home alone watching The Hills seasons, eating pickles and drinking straight rye. I just googled "how to make friends". Probably not the most pro-active solution. Help.
I'm timing the release of my poops to the sound of the machine gun from the video game he's playing in the living room.
let's skip the party, and just play drunken wii, again. its time to give my vag a break.
I can practically hear my vag and my conscience fighting.
He's drunk and putting on a tie for the jimmy john's delivery guy
She was giving you that "I really want to blow you but I have to act professional" look. Guaranteed
It's now 3:30 and the guy I went home with is showering me with shredded cheese. Nbd.
He insisted that I looked like Kiefer Sutherland, told me he didn't know what to do about it, then hugged me awkwardly.
Seeing Grandma lick chocolate sauce off of the male stripper was definitely not the way I planned to enter the world of legal drinking.
Woke up in the ER with a nurse holding my tongue together inside of my mouth and a shattered jaw, the last thing I remember is opening the 151, care to fill me in?
Henceforth: booty calls will now be referred to as "deliveries of anatomy". That is all.
So anyway, I'm just floating along life with my vibrator and low expectations.
If you're not my stylist, having sex with me, or agreeing to have sex with me don't fucking touch my hair.
Well obviously we have a ghost in the house who’s taking showers in your bathroom and doing our cocaine.
Randomize
