So I'm at the Chevron by your house. I need a condom and a couch.
Together?
Preferably.
Just used the D.E.N.N.I.S system successfully.
Whatever. I'm saving myself for my wedding night or a night with enough patron.
then he compared my vagina to a dishwasher. A DISHWASHER?!
There are regrets in my world today- mostly jager at that fucking altitude
We got to the party at eleven, and the host was already in the hospital from being stabbed. And she brought the stabber home with us when we left.
He needs to respect me before he can fuck me with cat ears on.
Things I just found under my covers: protein bar, string cheese, vibrator.
There's a very drunk Asian strawberry shortcake crying on the curb next to my truck. I'm not really sure what standard protocol is for this situation.
Two questions. One. Where are you watching election results tomorrow? Two. Can we have Obama victory sex?
Ran into him again last night, stole his glowstick and walked away. The glowstick mountain in my room keeps growing.
I stared at him for a solid five minutes because he looked like what I imagine god would look like if god was a lumberjack
You're seeing with your vagina, not your eyes.
So adding to the list of things my boobs can do, sweeping with a broom is apparently a thing.
I’m not dating him for his personality. I’m dating him so I can steal his dog.
Randomize
