Let's just say there is a bloody hand print above my bed and it's not mine. Literally.
Forget about socially acceptable. Make me happy instead
I'm at subway, this 8 year old kid is judging my fashion sense with his dad. I want to kill myself.
It's ok, he's just 8, he's not judging you.
He just asked why I'm sitting alone. I honestly want to cry.
but instead of smelling like hand cream and homemade cookies, she smells like a yeast infection.
His pubic hair was longer than his dick
i just googled the alphabet. i couldnt remember if it was jklomnop or jklmnop.
She was holding a turtle doing a beer bong out of a flower watering can.
God damn him and his understanding ways and little hip muscle things.
Besides. I seriously had a dream that George W Bush came over and slapped some tabs down on my kitchen counter and said "let's get juiced.". It was a sign to not get too fucked up
Things i learned at work today: do not put mayonaise on a tattoo, it will get infected.
We found him in the neighbors shed using a bicycle as a blanket. We just left him there.
Now I'm obligated to stay and cuddle with her because the condom broke. Fuck.
I also point out to everyone that she looks like DJ's gf on Roseanne.
I'm sure you're still partially crippled from thar blow job on Saturday, so I understand it's probably difficult to text.
yeah, i thought because of the nature of his job he would have been better at it, but i guess there's a difference between a bagpipe and vagina
Randomize
