Alex texted me. Bootycall boy #2. its like an alarm goes off once i'm single that the line is open again
Mines from giving head on hardwood floors.
and in the morning, while we were eating breakfast, she was all " i think someone sneezed into my shirt..." she'll never know.
you said "tonight pinky, we take over the world" and then came in my face
I wish i had a shirt that said, "I know what you're thinking and it's not herpes on my face"
The last thing I remember is funneling tequila out of a pink noodle.
You were high and telling me you felt like Pinocchio and that fire was bad for wood.
When you passed out on the kitchen counter she brushed and flossed your teeth, then carried/dragged you to bed. Why aren't you married?
I knew it was on when he was dancing on stage and I gave him a dollar so in return he ripped my tit out of my shirt and started sucking on it IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BAR.
I ordered a million chicken go wraps and they gave me five. Even when im drunk I can count to a million and know its not five. They fucked me.
It's raining beautiful colors and I don't know what the fuck is going on
We found him wrapped up in a giant table umbrella in the bathroom.
my question is who was more confortable? You sleeping on the floor or me tweeting from a bush?
Who had my phone last night? Whoever it was sent "Fuck you, you're adopted" to half the people on my contact list.
So how was it?
The cemetery or the sex?
Randomize
