I can't ever handle being "that girl" again. At least not until next semester.
Good lord, they've set up every firework to be ignited by a trail of gasoline at midnight. God save us all.
I don't appreciate you drunk dressing passed-out me in spandex for bed
There are parrots here and they're headbanging to the music. There's also a clown and a pit bull that can jump onto tables. Too high for this shit.
DOWN HORMONES. BACK.
That would warm my breasts.
In this context breast is a metaphor for soul.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that the reason my vagina was so "prelubricated" was because I had just had another gentleman caller an hour earlier. So, when he commented about how turned on I appeared, I just went with it.
I just want to have beer shits in my own bathroom. Is that too much to ask for?
So really what you're asking for is an allowance to not have sex on our futon.
It all started with sending him a text about Spongebob. It escalated from there.
No. Way more drunk than the night I put a snowball in my purse "for later" and woke up to find everything soaking the next day.
But less drunk than the day that Pete took four of your birth control pills thinking they were Advil, right?
Dude she smelled like bar-b-que sauce. I can't think of anything better.
She unfriended me four minutes after we fucked. That must be some sort of record.
It's 7am. I'm sitting on the curb in last nights clothes with a nose bleed and no idea how to get home. Low moment I feel.
last night i was way too drunk and i was forcing people to let me tell them about mammals
Randomize
