i'm writing my speech about my 4th grade backstreet boy concert experience. that sums up how seriously i take my life.
drugs are my only escape from this reality. good thing I got it at a discount price last night
its 9am. i just got home. spent 6 hours blowing him in a closet last night
Literally I thought my ears were pouring out blood. That high.
At least he's enough of a gentleman to not make me do the walk of shame dressed as Santa.
Well call me tomorrow, it's a great story that may lead to me being fired and/or possibly being buried in a shallow grave somewhere out in wine country.
cocks speak louder than words, as they say
Nobody says that.
I don't know. Something about answering "what did you do on Sunday?" Seems odd when the reply is, painted, went to the grocery store, put a restraint device on my bed.
ask me again when I'm sobewr aka tuesday
When you were bringing him upstairs I told him to bring you on down to pound town. you're welcome.
The last thing I remember is crying and shaking my head as she was putting salt on my hand. I guess I took the shot
words I never want to hear dad say again: "Trevor you sexy man you"
I know how vodka works Grace. I'm drunk, not stupid.
Halfway through missionary I realized I was partially laying on his sleeping dog and idk that just kinda ruined it for me sooo
Not only did I sleep with the guy but I think I may have called my work and quit to go work for him.
Randomize
