my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
My only options right now are Herpes, Gay, or Vanilla.
I cant even remember his name or what he looked like. all I remember is what the tattoo on his forearm looked like.
well, he kindof looked like a walmart greeter. I tried to stop you
She just sat there, all alone, with a bottle of booze. And the dog. He even looked like he didn't wanna be there with her.
i must of done something right to please the booty call gods. . . maybe fucking that fat chick?
now I know why they wanted me to come. apparently gay guys are stripper magnets
once you started introducing yourself as "running-bear" i knew you were beyond fucked up
they fed me a peach. i was laying on the floor telling them how beautiful they were
All i want to do is drink fuck and cry... you dont have to cater all three its more like the saddest choose your own adventure ever
i'm exhausted. do you know how hard it is to put together an outfit that is professional enough to secure a babysitting job yet slutty enough to let him know i'm down for sex during naptime?
I woke up with the Dorothy costume at my ankles, both sparkly red shoes on, and clutching ToTo....we're not in Kansas anymore, dude
"Yeah because the first thing I think of when I hear the word college is tear gas."
I mean, I would have, but I couldn't come up with a logical reason to bring up oral sex during an orientation.
I'm serenading his dick with my words. I understand how poets get inspiration now.
My roommate has a sixth sense about my jerking off and walks in EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
Randomize
