I just projectile vomited in a Methodist church parking lot. If Jesus didn't love me before he sure as hell doesn't now.
I vomitted in the hotel where they film gossip girl last night. Everywhere.
i don't even want to say how many boners i've caused this week
I think im gonna have to stop sexting on the metra. The middle aged businessman behind me just leaned over and whispered 'dirty girl' and highfived his seatmate.
I'll call it a relationship when I stop masturbating after he goes to sleep
he's doing fine. just headbutted the wall and threw up
Carpe scrotum. Grab life by the balls.
Walk of shaming dressed as a zombie hunter. This hangover feels like the actual apocalypse.
The blow job award ceremony was a little much. You guys didn't need to call out what happened the night before.
What? How can you say that? You won!
it's gotten to the point where I just look in my closet, think, "which article of clothing behaves most like a towel?" and then just go with that
Your "whiskey dick" is glorious but also terrifying
I can't give advice right now, I have a yeast infection.
I miss my bedroom and my bed and being able to spray myself with my choice of 15 different perfumes so I don't have to wake up to the smell of my past sins
Did you know that chef boy-ar-dee was a real person? I watched a show about him. the history of the ravioli is more scandalous than you would think.
No I'm not high but I did cry for over an hour tonight because I realized that they never made a sequel to "Under the Tuscan Sun" with Diane Lane.
Randomize
