Taylor Swift is so right about you.
God dammit. Now I'm pissed at Arizona, while feeling bad for my poor, poor penis.
susan atkins died, charles manson's lady
dont cry, there are other serial killers to crush on.
I wrote a list of all my homework due in the next few weeks. I feel I've done enough for tonight.
Sorry for talking about super scientific shit so much last night, I know it bugs you sometimes when I don't shut up.
What? You sat on the couch for a solid 2 hours staring at your fingerprints and the only word that came out of your mouth was "how"
I sent her a Relationship Request on Facebook last night, she accepted and we fucked.. I changed my Relationship Status to Single, I think she'll get the point
Just puked on the beach. Hungover. In front of my parents. I love summer.
These eggs taste like chocolate chip cookies. This is the best hangover ever.
I am too drunk to deal with your everything. Reread this everytime you feel the need to talk to me.
You know it's been a rough year when your therapist mouth is just wide open. And I didn't even get to the real issue!
You know, you have a good excuse now if you have a poor performance. Just say "what do you expect? I took a paintball to the DICK!!"
The amount of precision it takes to urinate into a 2 liter bottle while hammered is undeniably difficult.
Your vagina doesn't want to be violated with garnishes. I get it.
This morning I woke up in the entrance of a retirement home. Memory fragments from last night: making it rain with the contents of my wallet over the bridge, getting hit by a car, and a lot of running.
"Fuck all you guys I'm going to be Cameltoe Spider-Man for Halloween."
Randomize