so he was shitfaced and kept using sticky notes to label everything like "beer spill" and "going to fuck later"
good news. according to wikipedia, my blackout might just have been "post-trauma amnesia"
DON'T LET IAN EAT HIS PEANUT BUTTER!!!
Just remembered that I poured a whole bottle of tylenol in there. It's chunky. It's deadly.
He kept dropping hints about giving me crabs. Like he called my pubes a nest and said he "hoped there weren't any eggs in there."
I gotta find new tactics tho. There's just so many tied up dicks one can look at before part of your soul dies.
I got shot at last night. Lesson about married chicks: learned.
The goal for tonight is vagina. In and around. Doesn't matter who. How. Or why.
it took us a while to figure out sex on a tire swing, buuuuuuuut MISSION ACCOMPLISHED
If he can forgive your lousy blowjobs, you can ignore his terrible driving.
i'm calling it my monica lewinsky shirt now. may it live forever in infamy.
Mmhmmm. I have a list of drunk achievement that is almost as long as my list of stoned achievements
I feel badly that he has cancer, but this does not mean I am obligated to have sex with him. Again.
Ur dad just showed me a tit pic he got omf
Wtf is this place? I don't see any alcohol and I feel like we were supposed to bring our own strippers.
On a scale of "huh, that's interesting" to "holy porn stars, batman". How good?
Definitely closer to "holy porn stars, batman".
Randomize
