Situation: He got it in my eye, how long do I let it sting before should start to worry?
she's sitting on the other side of the room at this party. with her smirnoff tucked in that little opening between her cleavage and shirt. drinking from a straw. snapping her fingers off beat.
it's love
He wrote my name on his dick, took a picture and then said "this has your name written all over it!"
Fire inspection over. Blunts are OK
He asked me out while I'm back in town. I have to acknowledge and honor his persistence.
Your vagina must be laced with cocaine...
Seriously, come get him. He's not even a person anymore. He's a loud, drunk, cock-blocking wrecking ball.
Your lack of enthusiasm for my exciting news of drunken debauchery with an otherwise occupied vagina of one of my greatest conquests yet disturbs me. I'm not happy with you
Relationships are fuckin' work. And you can't just up and leave with no questions when you really just need to get home because you're about to shit your pants.
You're so wise.
I paused the movie when the delivery guys arrived, and while they were assembling the bed, one of the guys pointed to the tv and said "why so serious?" And it made the whole experience happy.
God I need to stop before there's a picture of my dick on my mom's phone.
I keep shaking cocoa puffs out of my hair. Best Sunday Funday ever.
And I'm laying here struggling with the notion that I need to put pants on.
Oh, and Harry Potter. We could be fuck-and-Harry-Potter buddies.
Also Fuck you Stephen King and Fuck the horse you rode in on, making me cry In front of my coworkers.
Thanks for loaning me your shower and panties. My hubby is awesome, but I shouldn’t go home commando, smelling like lube and sperm again
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