The door to door salesmen do not expect you to be drunk at 3 in the afternoon
Sex with him was like teaching a two year old how to work a machine gun
I hit him with a car. Nothing says I hate you more than backing into someone with a fucking car.
At least I know she didn't hear me crawl to my room. Or did I walk on my hands? Fuck if I know.
he was cradling you in his arms feeding you rum straight from the bottle and you kept sucking his fingers.
No one figured out why I brought along the vibrating massager.
You're telling me you've never sent a picture of your cock to a girl and then were all like "Oops, sorry, wrong person! By the way...You like?"
my last clear memory of the night was being offered a shot but having so much alcohol in my hands that someone literally had to pour it in my mouth for me. after that it pretty much skips to waking up face down and shirtless on my floor.
Literally every boy I've dated is now in a somewhat successful band. My vagina has obviously been blessed by the rock gods.
I just had a spiritual connection with my sweater and did ballet in the hallway. Alone. I'd say we're gonna chalk that up as a win for marijuana and call it a night
I say I hate my boss but I find myself jerking off to him more and more with each passing day
Wake up. Finish House of Cards. Put on pants.
Accurate.
Apparently I'm some kind of sexual camel.
I don't know what she did to me last night, but the scratches on my back indicate that I had sex with a Bengal tiger last night.
I swear to god, I'm like....the Jedi master of dick.
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