We can smell you smoking weed from downstairs and your little brother is asking why the upstairs smells like gasoline. Please smoke in the basement. XOXO dad.
I need to talk about my life with someone. Preferably with someone who hasn't tried to jizz on me
I can't cum and do my makeup at the same time.
you're the only person I know who would bring a water bottle of screwdriver to a wedding, and toast with it during the speech
I've started grabbing my boobs in front of my lesbian philosophy professor so she'll give me a better grade. It's working...
Just had a threesome with a hot Turkish guy and an even hotter French lawyer. This what happens when I travel alone. You have only yourself to blame for this.
Friendly reminder that on the walk home you tripped but instead of falling to the sidewalk, you tried to save it and ended up headbutting my ex-boyfriend in the balls. ILU.
If he survived pride he can survive a gay bar
I'm going to miss recovering from hangovers on the beach. Rolling around in my dorm bed and watching Friends reruns is just gonna feel like slumming it.
I figured working in my office on the 34th floor I'd be safe railing xanax off my desk. Of course, I snort it just in time for the window washer guy to give me a thumbs up.
Now everytime I sit on a toilet I think about having sex with him. Great.
I was thinking we could get together and exchange gifts, and by gifts I mean orgasms.
Always keep a stash of tequila in your work desk. That is like adulting 101.
Remind me to NEVER AGAIN mix beer with tequila with beer with whiskey with vodka with rum with vodka.
Looking back at our past texts, the minute it turned 2020 you were cleaning your house and I was dying of the cold. We were prophesying the Rona.
Randomize
