last night was a success...if success means i don't remember the guy's name and my panties are somewhere in the parking lot behind the bar
his penis looked like arnold from hey arnold. it was interesting.
there's no toilet paper. I'm using wheat bread.
You filled up my voicemail with a slurred but graphic depiction of how you were humping a fire hydrant.
I was fingering her, she was moaning, and we were singing Mulan
Just went outside to gather hail to use to make margaritas since we ran out of ice. That's God's way of helping us out.
My body is being held together with whiskey, nicotine, duct tape and a little bit of hope...
Happiness was finding the hidden Gatorade in the fridge
Dude. Why is there a hamster in my pocket? WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN THAT JOINT
I'm 99.9% sure the people upstairs are using walki-talkies to talk to each other across the room. Too high for this shit
The Universe is CLEARLY playing a bad joke on your sex life
Also, did you really start discussing the weather in the middle of telling you my sexual fantasy about you?
i just found a red feather stuck to my penis and i really wanted to send you a picture but too much
I answered the booty call in my Trophy Wife cutoff and my ex-boyfriends sweatpants with a bottle of jager.
and how was that received?
I hate when I'm sexting and I make a typo.
You just killed the sext mood.
Randomize
