Glad I put on jeans. You could measure my ass sweat with a rain guage.
We should write a comic book about the many adventures of your vagina. Maybe even give it a cape or something.
It was some time between the gurgles of her blowing me to us throwing up in the same bucket afterwards that I realized we would be doing this a lot.
No way. Our relationship is based solely on texting and sex. A phone call would be too much at this point.
Left and drinking by a bar by myself. Everyone is in pajamas. I'm in a tuxedo. This is my life.
Well I don't think you can suck his dick while he's making pizza. I think that goes against some health codes.
The only thing I remember last night was feeding my dog 4 McDoubles.
Just traded a shot of whiskey for a warm PBR on public transit. It's that's sort of night already.
Me: 10% human, 90% poor drunken life choices.
Nothing says "Hello, Adulthood!" quite like receiving a dick photo at 11AM from a guy you haven't heard from since fifth grade.
I don't like pregnant me. I eat very large burritos, I don't like having sex and I can't even finish a Blue Moon.
How weird is it that 2 people I've had sex with have the same birthday and they don't even know each other
Lets just say the phase, What a dick, has a whole new meaning at the urinals.
Yeah. I hurt his pride. But he's not over it. And by it I mean me.
When I woke up I was spooning with a block of cheese. Like, cuddling. Me and the cheese we nestling...
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