Hotel room at 3 am. She's 42. Stockings and heels. All because I opened with a joke about cougar hunting. We'll high-five later.
He can't get past my hymen. At least that's what he said it feels like.
Dude. I tried to convince her to eat poprocks and give me a blowjob. It did not work out well.
I'm so covered in bruises. God dammit drunk me. We are a lady.
woke up wearing a canadian flag with the starting forward of the hockey team. i feel oddly patriotic
I wish dancing around my house in my bra and underwear to Love Shack whilst eating strawberry cake batter was an acceptable form of exercise.
Going through my purse trying to find money for this cab but all I keep pulling out if chicken from my burrito o ate an hour ago. Help?
Dude. Her vagina is a blender.
Sorry, all I could picture was you jamming your dick into a lemon.
I sat on my couch last night watching What Women Want, eating ice cream, and sobbing "why doesn't she like me?" Why was I born a man?
I miss using glorious as an adjective. I'm gonna start doing that again. And I'm gonna try to get cuntatrosphe in there some more, too.
Something tells me your "Titties for Tracy Morgan" fundraiser won't pan out.
You took motorboating me in public to a whole new level. You poured your beer down my top and LAPPED IT UP.
I woke up with jello shots in pant pockets so I must've had fun
First things first, I always get more drunk than the birthday girl. Like, who's idea was it to sing karaoke? I killed it.
Randomize
