Let's just say there is a bloody hand print above my bed and it's not mine. Literally.
you kept going on about how you couldnt haven been the one throwing up because you were peeing in circles.
The trip involved octopus tentacles coming from the little holes in my TV's speakers. The beauty of the nonexistant symbolism had me in tears.
I blacked out at the bar, and blcked in getting a handjob on a roller coaster. Sober me is jealous of drunk me.
It was the textbook our-balls-touched-while-engaged-in-a-threesome-with-our-bosses-wife conversation.
It amazes and alarms me I'm not shocked to read that.
I'm at some strange place in what feels like Mexico, high and getting tacos.
You know it's going to be a good night when you're barking by 8:20.
Oh. My. God. You texted my mom "IM BACK BITCHES!"
ok thanks goodnight
Also before you go to bed i just have to get it out there that i really like macklemore as a person
I can't thank you enough for the well-timed blowjob. What a huge improvement in my outlook on the day.
Also, being stuck with my family all week has made it very clear that I need to be drunk and I need to be fucked pronto
Is eating a dinner of fishsticks and gin mean you're failing at adulthood? I'm asking for a friend.
He got up after sex and said "is it wrong if I say happy Mother's Day?"
This fucking storm better not ruin my sex plans this weekend
We're hate flirting, damnit.
Randomize
