I introduced my face to asphalt last night. They didn't get along.
Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
She's in the middle of blacking out but is singing Mariah carey songs. Hitting every note.
I just watched a girl in the library pull a vodka bottle out of her bag. I think I'm going to give her my number.
It's sad that the best source of heat that I have is my vaporizer.
4 to the list in one week. Slutsville isn't as fun as the brochure promised.
It's like a party bus, but there's a glass, airtight wall separating the driver from the passengers, and once everyone's on, they pump vaporized THC into the cabin.
I just remembered that I did shots out of a gay mans crotch. And there's someone saved in my phone as "Miranda knows where my car is"
My arms are hairy. And so Is my left leg. Just my left leg, the right is smooth.
No. If I hated you would get none. Then I would eat them all in front of you and laugh at your tears. Although that hasn't been ruled out for entertainment purposes. Nothing purposeful.
Are you feeling okay?
Right now, not a single thing feels even slightly okay. That hungover.
His dick's name has evolved from Sebastian to Big Daddy to Barbara Streisand to Barbara Walters. I think the transformation is finally complete.
You know what else? He didn't even get to see my butt. And my butt is really cute. Car sex is awful.
First she snuck beer into the movies and then proceded to give me a handjob in the dark theatre. I think I'm in love
hey im sorry i made fun of the color of your sheets, but like it was all i could focus on during sex because they were just THAT UGLY
Randomize