I just watched a trucker jack off to a picture of Ellen DeGeneres at a truck stop in Nebraska.
She's mad at me cuz I told her having a fuck buddy was too much commitment.
If I knew losing weight would mean this many fucking creepers I would've just stayed fat.
I don't even want to talk about it, I'm traumatized. Even the dog knew to take advantage of the most intoxicated girl at the party...
She just told me she's too full for a reach-around. Sad.
and I believe it was when I was running to class to take a test still drunk in my Halloween costume that I realized I have reached that point in the semester where I just don't give a flying fuck anymore.
Doing lines of coke through pieces of licorice. Because I can
I bet the guy on the treadmill next to me with the noise-canceling headphones wishes he could trade them for smell-canceling noseplugs. Hard to believe that last one did not involve any pants-shitting on my part.
i ended up making out with my new neighbor in a stranger's car that we found unlocked on a driveway somewhere. apparently drunk self never say "no" to adventure.
I spent half an hour sculpting my pubes into a perfect triangle of really short hair, and the first thing he said when he saw it was "Don't you think you need a shave?"
Not a problem, sailor. I speak both autocorrect and typo.
We could have mediocre awkward sex or mediocre stunted/awkward/uncomfortable banter. The possilities are relatively finite
I'm not saying I love you. I never said I love you. I said that if earth blew up like Krypton you'd be the only person I would like to have inside me when our bodies burn up in a fiery inferno
Do the security cameras outside your house capture sound? If so your whole family is going to hear me describe my threesome
He corrected my spelling during sexting.
Randomize
