Thank God they found balloon boy, I was afraid that Michael Jackson was ordering take out from heaven.
Balcony sex scratched the shit out of my phone. Whups.
Too bad my thesis topic isn't "defining a hot mess: a study in drinking, smoking and other bad life decisions."
On a scale of 1 to last weekend, how hungover are you?
Playing hide and seek with all those cheeseburgers... Not our finest moment.
i convinced her i need a blow job every morning to wake up because i have a medical condition.
Meghan got a job at the bar. We're now morally obligated to drink. Is this what dreams are made of?
Siri just reminded me to pickup Plan B
I planned on emotionally scarring him for life this weekend. DAMN YOU PERIOD!
I knew it was a bad night when the only thing I could remember was you force feeding me tortilla chips as I hugged the tire of my car and begged to have my stomach pumped.
It was easier that asking where the vagina platter is.
All I'm sayin is that I don't want to raise anything. Or deal with anything. Or having anything come out of my vagina. I mean, I don't think that's asking too much.
It's one of those "I can't stand you but we're stuck in the same hotel room tonight so let's fuck until one of us passes out" kind of nights.
How can i make it up 2 u?
DREW I AM SMOKING POT AND FUCKING. WE CANNOT DISCUSS THIS AT THIS PARTICULAR JUNCTURE.
party at the soccer house. crumbs in my sexy panties. can't. put. pieces. together.
Randomize
