Call me Kermit cause I'm about to go piggin
I'm curled up in a ball on the floor of my office with the lights off. I hope no one notices. No more open bar. Woof.
No more Irish car bombs ever.
my mothers day present is going to be not puking at the table during brunch
the fog machine set off the whole complexes fire alarm
it was like, one of those nights where you keep going back to the fridge because you just can't get full. except, with sex.
my mouth is as dry as a post-menopausal camel on antidepressant's vagina.
Let me clarify that those tears were for losing my fuck buddy and his penis, not to the fact that he decided he wanted an actual relationship with feelings.
THAT FUCKER WASTED TWO OF MY COLORED CONDOMS! HE DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING FINISH IN IT HE JUST SLAPPED IT ON AND WASTED IT!
GUESS WHO GOT ABSOLUTELY WASTED LAST NIGHT AND SPENT AN HOUR RAMBLING ABOUT KRAFT DINNER, HOCKEY, AND THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST
Wow. Memory lane. What a horrendously unsightly jizz stain on the tapestry of life.
I've fucked him twice and literally had no idea that he's missing a thumb
I'm sorry. I slept with him again. On the plus side he's got better at it!
I told him I was studying his body for art, so now I have to actually do a drawing of him to not look like a creep and so we can hook up again.
This date is awful. He’s too boring to bang
Is porn accurate? Can I order a pizza and do the delivery boy?
Randomize
