Every time we have sex I can't stop thinking about Jesus
Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
he texted me at 1 in the morning to ask if i wanted to come over and play in the snow with him
at least he gets points for a creative booty call
just mention it in a side comment sometime today... like oh by the way i have a daughter but um yeah my day was good
We've made a drinking game out of how many times the tornado sirens go off. We're good at tornado safety.
I knew the only reason I bought a smartphone was to play "You're Havin My Baby" on the way to cvs to buy Plan B.
I wouldn't be surprised. You and I have basically synced up our brain chemistry by doing drugs together in the same way that two girls would sync their menstrual cycles by sharing a house.
Strike three, the fat brides maid they call shit puker also has herpes.
I world jack off literally anyone now that I'm not related to.
We were taking body shots by lunch. I love college.
She paid me 300 bucks to spank her and call her Baby Jane. Then we drank half a bottle of sippin whiskey. I'd call it a twelve out of ten.
If it involves notarization or the Misfits, I am up to date. Anything else, I know fuck-all.
This is a weird combination of planning and sexting but whatever
One minute I'm going home the next I'm getting railed on the back 9.
The thought of you trying to procreat frightenes and disgusts me!
Randomize
