one should ask oneself what kind of lifestyle one is leading when one finds a handprint of semen on their pillow the next day.
For a day that started with shitting my pants, things turned out fairly well.
I can't tell whether I'm throwing up blood or licorice.
There is a distinct lack of front teeth here.
I'm sitting in front of the mirror eating cereal and pondering how my boobs got so big
Welcome to my life
They need a stunt cock, be about 20 more minutes.
It's never too late to be topless.
I think her version of saying goodnight was being flung over a guys shoulder as he said, "Bitch. You don't need no shoes."
As a matter of fact, I am on the treadmill with the Bottle of UV Blue as we speak.....
But he's not just anonymous male genitalia anymore. I've met him, I've seen his face.
So it's official the pockets of my work apron exist solely for the purpose of secretly flipping off asshole customers and not losing my job.
I'm thinking my boss switched to all cordless keyboards and mouses so that none of us would hang ourselves in the office.
I've had more sex since the twins moved in than I'd had in the previous four years. They are the best wingman ever.
How is it that on the one day I'm just moving my car at 6:30 I get the walk of shame looks but when I come home at 9 am in a torn dress holding heels old ladies smile at me?
But then our conversations are like black box recordings. Just the stuff you hear when the plane is going down
Randomize
