So the last day on the vacation I woke up in the bath tub. My mom said she asked me during the night what I was doing and I said, "swimming."
She took off her pants and it was like seeing an old friend.
I feel like royalty, that girl from last night had a vajazzled vag. Bucket list complete.
I mean, I don't even call it a hangover anymore. It's just morning.
we started the countdown to drunken sledding this weekend.
No, the responsible one does not yell out "lets go to iHop" at 5 in the morning to a bunch of drunk people with munchies.
But he's not just anonymous male genitalia anymore. I've met him, I've seen his face.
That was so not worth putting pants on for.
In two separate occurrences, I could have avoided getting my heart broken, and chlamydia, all with a left swipe.
He understood my need for pizza was more important than my need for sex. He's the one.
My fucking earlobe is bruised what the hell
Be there in 20. Want icecream?
sex. I want sex. I like where your heads at though.
You know that episode of Spongebob where Patrick teaches Spongebob to be fancy? His dick was like that, only fancier.
I think my life is a one-way ticket to blackout city.
Got everyone out of my house, somehow managed to put all my lawn furniture back, puked in my sink, and cleaned it up all while black out drunk before my parents came home. Successful night.
Randomize
