Your mouth is God's brothel.
Santa Clause just drove by me on a fire truck. Epic night begins.
Her parties are sponsored by Valtrex. This might not be your best idea.
Before attempting to fly away into the night you asked me to take care of your sister. I agreed.
I like my landing strip. Makes me feel sophisticated.
What you did last night can never be called sophisticated. I don't care how you trim your pubes.
Every time I roll over in bed I land on a different vibrator. I feel I'm the only one with this problem.
Also, if you all get arrested i'm coming to laugh at you because i don't have the money for bail.
My genitals don't want beer. They want to not feel like they wandered into a hornet's nest.
Please tell me you're not playing strip poker with your cousins again
I saw the attitude and didn't even try. Line of the night from one guy who talked with them for a while said, "I don't meet you standards. I have a job and would treat you well." She was blank faced.
Yes, you can go into Petsmart drunk but the cats awaiting adoption don't appreciate the soft pretzels squeezed through their cages.
Please don't finger me like a jackhammer. I'm a woman not a construction site.
My liver is screaming fuck you right now.
I think we have some hyper-understanding of each other when drunk, because looking back at our text convo from last night, they were literally just jumbled letters.
Oh, do you remember telling everyone you were with that your vagina was angry last night?
Randomize
