He got about halfway through singing "Drift Away" before he passed out and broke my coffee table.
Good lord, they've set up every firework to be ignited by a trail of gasoline at midnight. God save us all.
I mostly enjoyed dancing with him because his boner was scratching my bug bites.
We sat in his closet and drank four loko out of my camelbak for an hour in the dark. You tell me how my night went.
You said you didn't want to drink anymore so you started shooting vodka down the back of your throat using a syringe. Oh, and then you aimed it at my eye ball...vodka in the eye hurts btw.
Sudden memory flashback: drunk me outside ripping my tampon out and throwing it into the neighbors yard, silently cheering 'time for sexxxx'. I sense a dangerous pattern emerging
Someone is in my phone as "fireball girl" and keeps texting me. How do I go about finding out who it is?
Do you know of any good hiding spots in the Atlanta area?
Rumble strips road head = magical
Maybe I'm just didn't notice and imagined a different penis as a Freudian coping mechanism?
Guess who just rode home in a cop car?! Your Fav flamingo
He's not letting me leave till I cum. I am a hostage to my own vagina
I fucking love your mom. She's so drunk and fully functional. I aspire to be her one day.
Lock the bathroom door next time you are going to masterbate with the shower head, okay?
I was just power-washing my vagina.
I don't know what you're doing this morning, but obtaining Plan B is my number-one priority.
Randomize
