somehow on my way home with matt, I ended up straddling steve on the sidewalk and polling the people walking by on whether or not we should have sex.
I'm chasing vodka with french fries.
I wana party with Kermit the frog, no wait. Fozzy the bear. He's probably a silly bitch when he's drunk.
He plays me like an instrument...he is the Carlos Santana of my vagina.
we may have ended up at a gay bar on accident. we're gonna work this to get free drinks.
Last night she showed me how to clean my bowl and now she's drunk making peanut butter filled cookies. Best. Roommate. Ever.
Something about a hand job in a car doesn't scream girlfriend
No that's sign language, not a drinking game. I tried to join
I'm not sure which one did it but one of them fucked the kink out of my neck
He told me that if his bed could talk, it'd write a medical journal. Guess it's too late to worry about that now.
I'm so hungover that if we go to panera, I'll probably get a bread bowl to throw up in.
If I am telling you about the details of the shits I take I probably don't want to have sex with you. Probably.
So I have to send you an email about my weekend, heretofore referred to as The Perfect Weekend. Wherein I have lots of awesome sex with a guy with THE MOST AMAZING BODY.
I look forward to this email. I will respond with, Condoms and Creepers: The Adventures of Online Dating.
Like when I see him I look straight through his appearance and just envision a big walking penis.
Damn Instagram explore page. I am six months in to some girl I don't even know.
Randomize
