I need like a "Cookong High for Idiots" book. Or a car.
It can't be good... The last recollection I have is singing lullabys to his penis
all 3 of us brought blondes home last night. all 3 are passed out. we're gonna switch rooms and see how long until one of them notices.
As long as you're naked and covered in glow paint, I'm there.
I feel like our low point of the night was when we had to start chasing with ice cubes and wheat thins.
I've never been to a "going away to jail" cookout. do we bring a present?
By cross-referencing our messages & her Twitter feed, I've deduced that she was eating spaghetti the whole time we were sexting.
This stupid maranara sauce stain sucks. It keeps distracting me and it looks like I'm staring at my tits.
Does me being hung over take away from how professional I can be today?
she keeps a switchblade in her panty drawer... i am both terrified and slightly turned on
He offered me my choice of the Abe Lincoln or Ben Franklin dick pic.
Walking into my bedroom & smelling stale sex & disappointment isn't how I envisioned being 39, in case you were wondering.
I’m literally watching say yes to the dress, eating fancy cheeses with crackers, and I have orange dark chocolates. All of which is being washed down with merlot. And I’m 100% sure a porno is gonna go down next door tonight. They don’t have a car and arrived via taxi. Happy holidays from motel 6 Pendleton Oregon!
Well, I turned down sex again. This is guy #5 in the past 2 weeks. My vagina is going to seek emancipation.
Officially not baby mama #3. Celebration is in order.
Randomize
