I'm sooo using this pickup line: "Baby, its not the 2.5 inches... Its the 200 pounds behind it"
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
After I just paid $211 for my hair to be dyed and cut this guy at the bar said "I know you died your hair with koolaid, but I'd still fuck the shit out of you"
he likes ron paul.... that's all i'm going to say....
I told him that all frat guys do it... it was that easy to get him to go down on me.
she just threw a smoke bomb in an elevator and ran down 9 flights of stairs to see it at the bottom.
found my necklace. it was safe with all 6 boxes of peeps that i bought that night.
I got arrested for "public intoxication". Fuckers threw me out of the bar into public... i mean shit they have thirsty Thursdays. And I get thrown out for self serve Sundays plus a citation.
If you asked me 10 years ago where I thought I'd be today, I can pretty much guarantee I wouldn't have replied with "buying hemorrhoid cream on Bourbon St at 7am"
Using the random money I found in my bra from Halloween to pay to print my bio notes. I only brought a debit to the bar. College win.
But how do I turn off the feelings though?
Vodka.
The last thing I remember is singing hotel California with a hobo and asking every bald man I saw if I could touch his head.
I just trimmed my bush to manageable levels. I'm gonna take a nap and then get in there and finish the job.
Shhhh less advice, more soothing words and dirty phrases
You ghosted you're own booty call. Wow what a sad sad man.
Randomize
