What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
I believe that I finger-banged my way to the top of the corporate ladder.
Five things that make you perfect. Go.
The skin of a dead hooker. The blood of the innocent. The soul of a kitten. The hat from cat in the hat. And sunglasses.
It's so hard to take my boss as an authorative figure with her New Moon movie tickets taped to her wall
craigslist faux pas number 857, just got head in a disability bus.
its simple. when his lips are on my clitoris i want to marry him. when they are speaking i want to kill him.
Handle of 100 proof captain dressed like a pilgrim here we go
It would be like bopping for an apple with my penis but never winning an actual prize. The only thing I would get from it would be the joy from taking part but then regretting it forever more
well he is only 50 percent black.. but after last night i am 100 percent not going back
You tried to convince me you were sober by doing jumping jacks. For an hour.
Siri just called me GayBoy in front of my family. I will destroy you.
You've got until 8 and then I'm kicking down your door and pouring a beer down your ass via funnel
Ah, but I don't wear underwear. Every day is Commando Wednesday.
in mid sex he pointed out my great gatsby tattoo and we started discussing themes and metaphors from our fave fitzgerald novels
you need to stop fucking English majors
Woke up next to my vibrator and a recipe for fudge brownies. If that doesn't scream I NEED TO GET LAID, then I don't know what else could.
Randomize
