We walked past a group of guys in front of a bar last night and they claimed, I quote: Wow, we'd actually have to work for that.
Last night was an abortion. I might need a publicist.
So, we're in the car ready to fuck and she asks about my ex. I wave at my lap and say, "bye". She asks what I'm doing. I say, "waving goodbye to my erection"
I definitely recall eating shredded cheese out of the bag while you were wearing that apron.
Okay, just a casual question: how did i manage to get grass stains on the inside of my bra?
Out of beer. Salsa pong. Never again.
She. Own s my pussycat. Roxk it like. The sun hitting the horizon
I need to stop getting so excited when a guy unzips his pants and its bigger than my boyfriends. I look like a kid in a candy store.
I just stabbed open a can of Spaghetti Os with a spork. Who says I cant take care of myself?
Is it bad that I want a job purely so I can buy drugs with without feeling like I am sacrificing my future?
Why do you think I have a job?
Now I don't feel like I'm sweating cheeseburger all the time.
And then you screamed, "I JUST WANNA POUR MAPLE SYRUP ALL OVER HIM AND RAVISH HIS BODY!!"
but like who hasn’t gotten fingered at the state fair?
First dip in a brand new jar of Nutella, and my man’s dick are two things I will not fucking share.
No my problem is I'm working and its a beautiful Saturday. I should be recovering from a hangover and out golfing. Fuck responsibility. I miss college.
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