I've never had a better reason to do blow of a Pittsburgh strippers ass than to try and keep pace with my dad.
I love how my cats smell like pot.
You slow danced with your carpet steamer last night.
All I remember is you introducing yourself to the entire basketball team using the line "I'll show you a slam dunk."
Better than last year. I didn't wake up to an after thanksgiving human shit on my living room floor. I think it's a sign I'm growing up at almost 30.
It's like if a cloud had tits and you laid on them.
So I just stirred my shower drink with my razor.
I'm not going to ask which end you used.
It's okay I didn't send any nudes tonight so we are safe *inserts photo of a baseball umpire doing the safe signal*
I'll just give him your contact info, and you'll somehow manage to get laid. Which will make me feel like your vagina's agent or something.
I lost a bet last night, now I have to name the baby Fetty Wap, regardless of gender. Riley is going to kill me.
I had fresh baked oatmeal cookies, tacos AND was on deck to give a stellar blow job. You'd think that'd be a win/win/win situation.
If you're not my stylist, having sex with me, or agreeing to have sex with me don't fucking touch my hair.
We were on the beach when you spilled sand in the bottle and said "relax it's vodka, it'll disinfect itself"
Since when is my clitoris pierced?
I was totes going to lose it to him last night, but I cried and we ate mexican food instead.
Randomize
