Vodka @ 9pm. Library. Nothing can go wrong, I promise.
My neighbor is on the his front porch in a robe dipping a popsicle into what appears to be vodka. I want to be his son.
After last night, I've decided I will now bang only men who professionally ride things for a living. I will accept jockeys, cowboys, bullriders, and pro bicyclists who lie and say they're bullriders.
I just let my hand run under cold water for five minutes. I couldn't stop staring at it and the only things I could think about were how amazing it felt, how cool water was, and what a wonderful world it is that we live in. Reasons why I don't smoke...
We'll talk about this tommorrow when I'm not mistaking my fingers for French fries....
The Winnie the Pooh costume was great until you got drunk and started yelling at the kids asking for pictures.
There is an alarming amount of urine in here.
I'd apply for another job, but "staring out windows crying" is not a hot qualification right now.
I was going through my settings and the phone randomly started playing "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Dwight Yoakum. Out loud. At full volume. I was shitting. There were 3 other people in the bathroom. I love iOS 7.
Ooo, yeah! Thanksgiving will be a blast. Can't fuckin wait for the next round of "have you found a nice young man yet?" Followed by a lovely helping of "don't worry, there's someone out there for you."
he just sent me a dick pic, it highly resembled a cheese stick
I woke up to some strange woman rubbing peanut butter on my thighs
He put his number in my phone as Steve handsome
Not to make this awkward, but if we ever have sex (perhaps drunkenly), all i'm gonna be able to think about is how sexy our kids would be.
Don't try to butter me sideways
That is without a doubt the most Southern thing you have ever said.
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