My face smells like last night's lay. I need a whore bath. Or a corndog.
Where are you? I just made a vodka + cranberry & I’m going to drive there & throw it in your face
this is the last time we take the mathletes drinking.
Her mom is home on her lunch break. Guess who's hiding In the Closet?
We're the only two others left at work. My internal monologue is going: TAKE ME. TAKE ME NOWW. ON THE COUNTER. IN FRONT OF THE MANAGER. JUST TAKE MEEE
Sober me does NOT approve of what went on in my pants last night.
She's laying here with her head in my lap stoned, eating Doritos, whining about her boyfriend, and listening to Cher. Fuck the friend zone.
WHO INVENTED HANGOVERS WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES
The silhouette of his dick looked like an eagle. Amurrican.
Almost to work. And still feel hungover. Like my body is trying to regenerate after dying. Full on zombie shit. But like, one of those zombies from warm bodies that comes back to life slowly.
I hate to stick you with the friend but I did all the work.
So is that the only criterion for shenanigans now? Don't die?
I asked him to help me break in the space ship aka my bed.
I'm not trying to analyze you I'm just saying you are being unfair to soup
I almost got decked by a guy who looked like Mr. Clean. How was your night?
Randomize