like i told you yesterday: virgins, blood, my name. do it.
remember when mike pissed in his pants and then put a double cheeburger in the pocketsss of said wet pants for "safe keeping"? yea drunker then that.
i'm at the point now where i want him to say anything. even an apology for his boomerang-shaped penis would be nicer than no comment.
but you don't have to sleep on top of four different cum stains because you'd rather buy a case of Franzia than spend $3.50 in the student laundry room
they named it eva bongoria. i had to hit it based on the name alone.
When I opened my laptop there was a half eaten little debbie oatmeal cream pie inside.
he's drinking beer at home in his underwear tonight and if you want to come over the dresscode is underwear only. And you have to bring beer.
Saturday evening, however, will be my vodka and bubble wrap extravaganza.
Stop thinking your God dude. You passed out. God doesn't pass out...
I replaced his Viagra pills with sleeping pills.
I felt like in order for him to make it to mordor and destroy the ring, he'd have to make sweet sweet love to me in some form of hut or cave.
I now have a full length bright red cape in my possession. Best sex trophy ever.
I was fed cake in bed and then was pinned down and ridden till I came. And then fed more cake. I'm going to marry Brad. I'll put money on it.
Is it weird that my ex and the dude I'm talking to now both only have one testicle? Apparently I've found my type..
had to remind myself that killing him is not a good career move AGAIN.
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