I just spent the last hour reading customer reviews on amazon.com for the book "it hurts when I poop." Send help.
look mate, i'm pretty sure 14 texts saying "fuck me. fuck me now" more than passes the legal benchmark for consent.
Eating doritas dunked in queso con salas. Salllas. Salska. Salsa. Got it. Shhiitt. Salsa con queso. That's better. I'm hot pink socks.
i would eat my own dick if it were covered in nutella
he knocked over the vodka and juice...picks up the cup and says "yes", takes the last sip...doesnt even worry about the mess all over the floor and we continue having sex.
If this herpes test comes back negative I'm asking out the doctor.
Why is it only times like these when I'm scrubbing the cum stains off my futon before my family gets here that I seriously begin to question my life choices?
Technically he's married but he says it's "not like that" even tho his wife lives with him. Not sure if I believe him but I'm sleeping with him anyway.
Mr. Clingalot just ran from our apartment. What the hell?
I started to cry afterward and mumble random things. Examples: "God, please don't make me be so gay anymore" and "my mom is going to be so proud of me for fucking a dude this time." It was that or let him stay the night and cuddle. I mean, fuck that horrible shit I'm a girl that needs her space.
It's like a booty call, except its for tacos...and you're my brother.
You tried to sit down... There was a distinct lack of couch.
Remember last NYE when after the 9th shot of tequila you went on full crazy mode and made out with the 50 y/o doorkeeper? and he called you the next day?
Well I'm half drunk in a green tutu at a chipotle. So pretty good parade.
You were out of control then you fell asleep on his lap for 30 min and woke up civil. Way to powernap to sobriety!
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