The last thing I remeber was convincing you to hide in the fridge, and then taking everything out and you not fitting.
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
heading to class now, facing the weekend consquences
260 beers this month. I need a new hobby.
You can come over, sure. But I'll be watching college hockey during the blow job.
I just don't know what he sees in my vagina...and that scares me.
Taking a shit on the side of the road is not how I imagined this morning would start.
It has been so long since I got any action that I have decided to change my vagina's name from "the chamber of judgement" to "the cave of forgotten dreams".
I'd like to believe that in some alternate universe we are living this wonderful lesbian life together..
pssssst. you dropped everyone else off and forgot about me. im in the backseat of your car still. can you please come back outside and either let me out or take me home?
If my birthday doesn't end with my panties hanging from a ceiling fan, I'm holding you responsible.
There are no winners in a lube eating competition.
I want a dick in my left hand and a Crunch Wrap Supreme in my right hand.
Guess how much it costs to flush your pants down the toilet?
Granted, I did not plan to spend ANY hour of the last day of 2020 sober.
Randomize
