Marg and I just meaowed the nat anthem. I was tenor.
'm tripping baaaaaaaaaaaaaaas
We started making out, then he decided to get naked, put on a condom, and proceed to dry hump my leg, sweat pants and all, until he blew his load. I thought this was college. I immediatly left claiming I can't sleep in other people's rooms. He didn't even bother taking off my hoodie.
Hit a parked car with a "property of Jesus Christ" bumper sticker. Wrote out five hail mary's and left it on the windshield.
I can't. He's too cute and my tongue is too long.
the problem with open bar is i never know what to get
did you really just start a sentence with "the problem with open bar is..."
He did the "not my house dance." Apparently it involves spreading cereal on the floor and then grinding into the carpet in bare feet while singing "not my house" over and over and dancing.
I have not carelessly put myself in herpes way since I got a clean bill of health tyvm.
It's a toss up. They'll either laugh and watch you drunkenly fuck on the beach or they'll throw you deep in Mexican jail.
Also, nothing screams "don't talk to me because I'm unstable" like walking around eating cookie dough out of the package.
You proceeded to get into a playground school bus and yell "all aboard to Margaritaville!"
Let's fuck under the stars. And by under the stars I mean in my bed underneath my glow in the dark star stickers.
I'll pretend I don't know she's blind, my morals claimed the back seat in this adventure.
Oh and .... you'll love this: my life coach says you writing my online dating profile isn't a horrible idea.
Also, my old intern Lizzie whom you fed pizza to last night wants to hang out with you
WE ARE DOOMED.
And not the good kind of doomed. Assuming there is one.
it isn't the robot apocalypse that's for sure
Randomize