my room smells like sperm. sweet.
I swear, if I find out you're lying, I'm going to put your name on one of those herpes watch websites and put the link up on every social networking site in existence.
Fun fact: tonight on intervention was the guy who did my tattoo
Getting blown during the Cavs game doesn't make it any less depressing.
It's only 4 pm and I'm already way past my preferred quota of "could have died" moments
every time fb tells me a dude i fucked is now friends with another dude ive fucked, i die a little inside. thats way more honesty than im comfortable with.
using blue streamers we found on the bathroom floor was probably not the best substitute for toilet paper.
Give us adventure or give us cock. Or cocktails.
I only have one kid whom I wish to hit in the face with an active jackhammer. How's work?
Fucking holidays. How do I have this many men who want to fuck me and none of them are available when I'm ready to blow my top?
Last night I was introduced as the Picasso of getting fucked up so I obviously had to live up to it by chugging long islands
I came so hard I literally levitated off the top of his dick. Gravity was no match for that orgasm!
She meowed at me. Repeatedly. Then she asked what was wrong with me because I didn't understand her.
Ya, It's probably because whenever I close my eyes I see a kitten playing a banjo.
Because, after all, nothing quite says life in 2020 than doing laundry at 9:40 on a Friday morning to make sure you have masks and underwear.
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