No idea how I passed that sobriety test.
At Coney Island the sign for the rollercoaster The Cyclone says, "Make sure your glasses and weave are secure."
Then we all started singing, "Our house, in the middle of the street. Our house, fucks a lot of freshman meat". It was magical.
Either I'm spending too much time drinking or my perfume is starting to smell like a pineapple vodka.
I'm not wearing a bra, watching Netflix and eating gushers. I don't know a better way to spend a hangover.
Yes ma'am. At least you're a warning story I can tell to my kids in the future
I saw your relationship status and wanted to write "Now you can fuck with some peace of mind that she isn't giving that other guy she met online a handjob."
That Kevin guy is something else...His penis is fucking glorious. And he has a way with words. If he lived here I'd be the conductor of the fuck caboose. I mean literally I would never want to get off that thing.
He's pretending to be my boyfriend so that my family won't bother us when we sneak off to smoke weed
I've had sex near too many of the blankets to let our parents touch them like this
Clearly you've confused me for someone who has their shit together, and honestly I have no idea how you did that.
...take a good look at your butthole.... then try matching it to any paint color on the Benjamin Moore color wheel....not gonna happen...
You just kept telling everyone to call you MFT.. Mother Fucking Tornado.
Whoever thought of breakup sex is my new best friend
You did an excessive amount of blow and then screamed "WHO THE FUCK NEEDS A LADDER?!" And then Mario style wall-jumped onto the roof. It was one of the most impressive things I've ever seen.
Randomize
