she just asked me to help her create a twitter page for edward cullen's hair.... seriously.
The man at the Honda dealership told me I smell like vodka and probably shouldn't be driving.
I think I've hugged the toilet more times than I've hugged my own family members.
If he thought that flying across an ocean to visit me in London constituted sex, he thought wrong.
I believe nudity is frowned upon at that establishment
I paused mid sex to tell him I wished I'd taken up barrel racing so I could ride better.
Well it was tamer than the 4th of july when I blew that guy I met walking home from the fireworks
I found him in the kitchen singing German metal into a banana while simultaneously mixing brownie batter. He didn't have any pants on.
Nope. Turns put my desperate group message for sex didn't work out.
Well you sent it to two guys who were roommates.
They could have rock paper scissored for it. My vagina = the prize.
If someone told me one person in the department was secretly a death eater, I would suspect her, no contest.
At the funeral we'll say nice things, like "She was delightfully extreme, psychotically wonderful, and could probably drink all you fuckers under the table."
That's literally the perfect eulogy
I just want to braid flowers into his hair and steal all of his pills.
I'm storing dick pics, so basically if I'm still single after residency...ur gonna get bombarded. It's gonna be a blizzard of dicks.
Feel free to keep your blizzard of dicks to yourself.
Tell him that his phone is taped to the dog's stomach. Stop trying to call it because it makes him scared.
I mean metaphorically. Literally zombies have yet to invade. Let's be rational here.
Randomize
