We've finally come to the understanding that as long as our conversation stays stricaly sexual, we get along.
he calls his bong barack obonga, commander in kief. i found where i belong.
No need to call an exterminator, the ants overdosed on the leftover lines on the counter.
I'm confused are we getting high or did someone actually die?
Don't mind the bowl full of ashes in the sink. I meant to set that on fire.
Rosemary is literally sitting on the ground holding on to the rug because she thinks she is going to fall if she lets go. We smoked way too much.
Like, he's a nice guy. But he's better at fingering than he is at speaking.
Just found a pack of birth control on the corner of Oakland and Thomas, so if your desperate its up for grabs.
God loves me. So high, craving Jimmy Johns chips, looked down, unopened bag in front of me. Still doesn't feel real
How are you feeling?
Hungover as shit. Someone just knocked on my window to make sure I was alive. I have been sleeping in the drivers seat for an hour parked outside my store. That is how okay I am.
And he's in a frat. Everyone in a frat is gay. It's science.
How long do I have to listen to him talk about the chickens before telling him I just really want to fuck? Note: it's already been twelve minutes.
my dad just built a flame thrower.. you should probably get here
he told me I was hypnotizing him with my mouth so I guess I do give good head
He was literally screaming at me for using the same knife to scoop the peanut butter and the jelly.
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