So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
You know the guy who poops at a party and then leaves and you go in, do your business, and come out and there are girls outside that think you pooped and no one talks to you? I'm the guy who poops before you go in, because I'm in a relationship and I hate you.
My bracket is officially just a list of teams that lost.
3 things. 1) we need alcohol 2) we need alcohol 3) we need tortilla chips. Let's make a plan. Bro shakes and salsa.
Apparently he's into classy girls that wear sweaters and don't throw up on him when they go out.
In my defense, last night's hookup turned out to be my actual girlfriend. That's gotta count for something, right?
Is it bad that I don't ask for names anymore? Just added "gold-chain-wearing hotel guy" to my list under "minivan 3way" and "funny-tasting gym guy."
I think it's time for a new pick up line. So far my " hey you want to go back to my place, order a pizza and fuck?" Has set me at an all time low downtown 0/4
Our Tuesday night drunk Irish step dancing was on point tonight.
so go get some goddamn bacon and lay in his bed naked. he'll love it.
Now I'm having a post-sex brownie. Is this the life? I think it might be
While he was at a job interview yesterday, I was dropping acid. So that's the aesthetic of our relationship rn.
That jawline could fucking have its way with me.
And by "I love him" I mean "I want his tongue down my throat.
Vocabulary what?!? Shakespeare is my bitch.
Randomize
