it's business casual sex. like no kissing, shake hands after, occasional frequency
sexting on a treadmill. speed 9.0 beat that slut!
It's impossible to flirt with the bank tellers because they see how broke I am.
Okay I've seen like three girls walking around crying today. Weird?
everyone's regretting their thursdays.
just an fyi, false alarm on the whole ghonnorea thing. you're safe.
made the entire pub sing the british national anthem, puked, rallied, then peed in a telephone booth and have pictures to prove it, taking tourism to another level since 2012.
I woke up five hours later with a mouthful of Jimmy John's while clinging to my sandwich.
Yay for living on the edge. I'm trying this new thing where I stop mom-arming people and promote bad decisions. It's working quite well.
red lips, whiskey sips, shaking hips, nipple slips. my life as a rap song.
Sweet. Warning: i have been drinking at work since 4. Plan accordingly.
Plus now I feel weird sleeping with you. It's like shooting a three legged deer. It's already at a disadvantage and couldn't get what it's full potential deserves.
The porch is breathing.
STAY OUT OF MY SHROOMS YOU CUNT
I think one of my ovaries is committing suicide. But that is a topic for another day.
Can someone explain to me why guys are so fascinated w their dicks that they feel like they'll die if they don't send unsolicited dick pics
how do do this?
do what? Keep standing? Choose between 2 guys?
keep making boys cry?
Randomize
