If he eats mayonnaise, he's not getting laid. End of story.
New record: 45 minutes. Afterwards I played We Are The Champions while we cuddled.
i just told my mom tuesday boozeday rhymes so that she can remember not to text or call me on wednesday mornings
youre going to kill that woman one of these days
I am one bad relationship away from having 30 cats.
sticking your finger down your throat to make yourself throw up is bulimia, not morning sickness, so no, I don't think you're pregnant.
People were autographing me. I'm like the spring break yearbook
maybe we can find two twins tonight and bang them together and then my life is complete
hey dont come home for a while, moms drunk and is telling the story of 'how she met dad at that orgy' again
I just decorated my birth control case with Lisa Frank stickers. If that doesn't scream 'I'm not ready for babies' I don't know what does.
She's legit crying about wanting more sex. Holy shit.
She rolled over this morning and asked "did you refer to my vagina as splash mountain last night? "
She just fell in the river. Meet us downstream with the bottle.
It has moved into the cliche "thin line between love and hate" real quick. With her. Not Taco Bell.
VAL. THIS MOTHERFUCKER IS LAYING IN MY BED WEARING A CAT SHIRT, VAL. COME SAVE ME, VAL.
whoever decided snowing in 90 percent of campus on a night when the streets are flowing with tequila and skittles was clearly not an R.A.
Randomize
