I wasn't fucked. I was just drunk, because i was still able to walk into the woods and masterbate.
it's like doing a sit-up... but, you're inside someone
we've had sex 4 times and he still refers to me as 'the chick in my chem class'
If I ever mention marriage force me to Brazil to do coke and strippers until I die.
He asked me out while I'm back in town. I have to acknowledge and honor his persistence.
Your vagina must be laced with cocaine...
Can we just ponder our lives for a second.
No I think my brain may implode in a puff of cocaine and sparkles.
I hope we all get so wasted that we ride the cows again
As I am reading this. I'm standing in my underwear eating taquitos. I'm saying this in the most loving way possible: FUCK OFF.
And I feel like pitchers of margaritas accidentally make it down your throat a lot.
I mean, the lady at the Mexican restaurant insisted. She said she would win a prize if she sold another pitcher before noon. And plus I got to wear a sombrero
I vaguely remember Matt shouting something about "GET ON MY LEVEL!" at the bartender before he attempted to order a case of tequila from him.
I'm not pregnant. Security came before he could.
I feel like I hate him but his dick too bomb to hate completely
This girl was in the river screaming that someone didn't love her anymore...that's when the guy in a kilt claimed her...
You know why I love being a regular at this bar? It's because at a certain point last call is only a suggestion.
I mean, drunk me really liked him, maybe sober me will too. Who am I to deny fate?
Randomize
