I feel like my whole life has been one big pre-game for Mexico.
I'll show rhose boucners: You don't let me in, I poop on your pool.
there are certain things about getting into a cab to go home at 630 am that make me feel like a prostitute.
She called herself a train and then took off all her clothing. I forget everything after that.
I saw you two flinging Jello at the sidewalk if that helps jog your memory.
He just used my bikini trimmer to give himself a fumanchu. And I still plan on having sex with him tonight. This has to be what true love feels like.
I need to find a more grown up way of dealin with a hangover at the office than pringles and mountain dew at 8:30 am...
The last thing I remember is teaching our waffle house waitress to do the stanky leg and promising the grill cook we would come see him at his other job.
He's going to be my graduation present to myself.
He was spooning with the dog when I came home. Now shes afriad to go near him. Should I ask?
I woke up wearing a headband made of condoms. It was supposed to be a crown for the "prettiest fag hag" award I won last night. There is lube in my hair. I'm going back to sleep
You're like Jane Goodall in a forest of gay men. Someday your autobiography will be called "Bottoms in the Mist".
I woke up in a stranger's bed wearing nothing but santa socks.
She is 6 months pregnant and gets more action at bars than I do.
we were running around the halls trying to bloodhound search out the source of the weed smell, but we ran into six other people doing the same thing, and they all said they assumed it was us.
at this point I think you're judging my taste in men
I swear I'm not
It's okay, I'm judging my taste in men
Randomize
