party is dying down. we just wrote whore in the yard with gas. Photos to come.
just tell him he has love handles, he'll die of insecurity
if you don't let us come over today i'm not taking the second plan b pill. your call.
i left with the words "thank you for undersanding my sluttiness"
I wonder what my nutrition professor is going to think when I have to put 21 keystone lights, a bottle of merlot wine, and 5 rum and cokes and 4 shots of tequila on my dietary analysis
I have to think about this realistically and not with my vagina.
You stuck a chicken finger in that stripper's clevage and said "Keep this warm for me.
I slept with someone shorter than me. My vagina weeps.
You fool.
Who knows? Maybe we can sing afternoon delight into each other's genitals.
He found a way to charmingly ask me for a threesome and when I said no he made it sound like he was even happier. He's a fucking wizard
I think the cashier could tell I was sad. All I bought was penis shaped food and chocolate
I just opened a pickle jar stoned as fuck. I clapped for myself. I feel like wonder woman.
I don't have the resources to adequately explain this. I need like a Powerpoint presentation and also Vodka.
I just found a contact in my phone named "Nick from The Party". Who's nick?
its a comptetion of fuckups and im HERE TO WIN
Randomize
