i just walked with a girl who was carrying a chair down the street. apparently she got mad at the bartender and took the bar stool when she left.
He keeps trying to sell me the forks from his kitchen drawer
he came on my stomach and it was 1000 degrees in his car. i smelled awesome.
This went bad. Everyone is crying, i dont know why and I am really uncomfortable.
He honestly told me my belt was "supercute" when we started hooking up. I would be the girl to find the only straight man in the world that uses the word "supercute".
About six hours after the bottle of smirnoff, I was googling "losing your stomach lining" and calling my mom for help. She has experience.
It's like if a cloud had tits and you laid on them.
I feel that the drunker I get, the drunker Facebook gets.
Bitch, it's 2 in the afternoon.
Check having sex on the rocks and dirt on the peak of saddleback mountain off my list.
I felt like a god.
I think the last straw was when you put on ice skates to go across the waxed wooden floor.
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
sometimes you just have to listen to beyonce and cry. that's how life works
We got to the hospital and the girls who caused the accident had already added you on facebook.
You took a bite of the snack wrap put it down and fell asleep and when you woke up ten minutes later you asked how it got there, dipped it in soda ate it and fell back asleep.
My bald co-worker just chugged a literal gallon of coffee. My condolences to his kidneys.
Randomize
