I got into an eating contest with Christina. I ate 6 oranges.
Why? Who won?
we don't know. we ran out of oranges.
I got an 8 ball and a free entrance pass to the strip club, if i dont get laid tonight I never will.
This is the way my sobriety ends: Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
You mailed him a break up letter, because you thought the "joy of receiving a letter" would ease the pain of you dumping him.
My vibrator challenges you to a duel.
Se wrote an essay in class about proper and fashionable winter wear for dogs. Of course I regret fucking her.
You can't just be this socially awkward and sexually frustrated and jealous as a fucking demon and be expected to stay sober.
I got your flops too. But yeah you rolled off your raft a bunch of times so we had to ask the white trash squad to help you back on. You bit one of them
I met his parents. We played twister. My boob popped out.
I can insert a female catheter, but I cannot grill a cheese.
You -do- realize there are other things to talk about than just how different parts of you smell like pussy, right?
Great, now even dream!me is a drunken borderline mess.
That's just how I roll. I drink, then tell people I'm either not wearing underwear or I'm training to be a stripper.
He stole one of my good bras again. If I'm not getting laid I'm not putting with this shit. Also it's a walk of shame for you today, my car is suicidal again.
Been smoking since 4. The inevitable finally happened: I bought a cheesecake.
Randomize
