It's like the Sean Connery of vaginas. You don't mess with it.
Apparently, I woke up in the middle of the night, got up out of bed, dropped trou in the corner, squatted, and pissed on the carpet. When Eric heard, he thought it was the dog and started yelling, and I responded by saying "No no, its okay. It's me."
What is wrong with this kid? He'll take ecstasy but won't take dayquil?
He's in bed with me right now. I'm wearing a towel and all I could wish for is my freedom. And pizza.
You never know, some chick could have a weird unibrow fetish.
Sitting in the library studying = googling how to get laid in the library.
She was eating leaves off of trees and saying it was salad, and even told a guy in passing that her favorite color was plaid.
Also, I cannot stop picturing myself in a bar, 3 years from now ordering soda. Just soda. 30 pounds over weight and wearing a cat sweater. I feel like I'm heading in the wrong direction in life.
Every minute you wait for the sex that's not gonna happen, we're missing a tone deaf, drunk, tard-asaurus rex half-sing a 90's song to a bunch of other dinotards at karaoke.
Nice. The Governor's son bruised my vagina.
That's going to be the title of my memoir.
Good. Go forth, young stallion. Destroy the vaginal region with your tidy crotch.
Today was brought to you by the letter B for beer and bourbon and the number fuck you I'm meant to be studying not hungover
Next time I take edibles I'm getting chipotle to cater the event
He isn't understanding any of my Fetty Wap references. He may not be a keeper after all.
Ugh, I should just give up, and fuck him in a parking lot, and shave my head and walk naked through the streets of King's Landing.
Randomize
