I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
I was in the bathroom throwing up...when I walked out he was sitting there watching porn and jacking off. He said, "Sounded like you were gonna be in there for a while."
I discovered the grieving process is shock, denial, anger...and then something about drinking until you puke on yourself
there are way too many $1s in my wallet for last night to have been 'tame'
My little brother got home at 4am too, we drunk ate together. It was a kodak moment.
Pretty sure I can show you the text you sent me stating some interest in my penis entering your mouth if said circumstances were met.
No I got myself stoned. With her bowl. She was just a casualty of the War on Sobriety.
This lady gave me four cups to go along with my gallon of daiquiri. Silly girl, all I need is a straw.
Of course I'll be there. I never miss an opportunity to smell like cigarettes, cheap beer, and shame.
I'm sorry that running around town like a frenetic wombat trying to find you KY jelly isn't good enough for you.
Because that's what you do with poop. You expect the worst.
I wore his All-American medal during sex. I came in first that night.
Interesting, I was always told to run away from crazy, but you seem to think we should run towards them dick first.
Do you know anything about how the saran wrap ended up on my toilet seat?
She said if you lived here it would be like the x rated version of 3's company
Randomize
