Dude, you just left me a 3 minute voicemail of pop rocks in your mouth. Im sitting right next you
we got so high we spray painted his girlfriend's UGG boots. she's CRYING. it's hysterical.
He just kept muttering to himself "stabby stabby stabby stabby" while we were boning. I will never be boning him again.
Just looking for some anal play. An attempting to read atonement. The highbrow/lowbrow divide is striking.
I have a ginormous moral hangover. Strip club blues.
He's sobering up. It was really bad for like 45 minutes. He cried while telling me how he pictured us eating hotdogs on the beach together.
She tried to lure me back to her house by saying she had "real" pizza.
There is an empty space on my boobs where glow paint should be.
I know my whole body feels like I belly flopped onto concrete. Seriously need to tone it down for a while
So is that the only criterion for shenanigans now? Don't die?
Cause I'll toss Tabasco sauce in his eyes and yell "Cobra attack" and walk away
I don't know what song to play at my bong's funeral!
Sorry I've been a slutty nightmare this week
He listens to me complain and in return I send him naked pictures. It's a win win situation
The air I exhale reeks of whiskey and bad decisions
Randomize
