i just turned barefoot contessa into a drinking game. everytime she uses a knife butter or salt i drink.
checking your phone to see who you drunk dialed last night isnt as funny when you see you had a 17 minute call to your dad.
He's my palate cleanser. He's my mint sorbet. He's my saltine cracker. He's who I fuck between people to make the next one better.
Our sex bag has now been upgraded to sex luggage, with wheels, and now features a first aid kit. Game. On.
He paid me $20 to swallow a baggie of glitter, which turned out to be the best decision I've ever made. My vomit has never been prettier.
I'm sitting on our balcony drunk. And in my underwear. Our relationship with our neighbors may improve.
had a nice chat with the older gay fellow who works in the bakery at the new vons about vday...we both feel that it's a day of dashed expectations & concerns that we'll have to be cut out of our spanx
I mean, I would have, but I couldn't come up with a logical reason to bring up oral sex during an orientation.
I was gonna respond but i couldnt figure out a way to rearrange 'fuck his brains out' to sound grammatically correct
I'm so upset I left my sombrero at the expo center
I'm killing it this week, I've peed my pants and put my vibrator into the washing machine.
Also, asking the guy who just told you he is crippled on edibles to watch your kid is probably frowned upon by most
I miss your drunken presence, and strong odor of hard liquor and potent weed.
Looking back at our past texts, the minute it turned 2020 you were cleaning your house and I was dying of the cold. We were prophesying the Rona.
They just canceled the season. It’s going to be harder to bang soccer moms this year
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