I woke up this morning with a bag of pepperonis in my bed.... and my facebook status was "pepperonis"
I'd love to come and give you a massage, but we already duck taped my keys to the ceiling...
just drew up plans to mow my front lawn into the American flag for world cup. that high and patriotic.
Watching that soccer game was like getting kicked in the crotch for an hour and half and then coming right at the end.
All I learned from that experience was that drinking scotch out of a crunk goblet was bad news.
Your penis has nothing to do with my throat infection, sorry...
Don't lose. A little bit of my soul dies every time a beer pong game is lost.
I'm at the point in my life where I'm trying to get guys I've fucked to give a ride to guys I'm going to fuck.
Febreezed myself at a stop light on the way to the IRS office. Judgmental glare from some old lady in the car next to me, thumbs up from her husband.
My cat clawed my face because i tried to give it a foot massage...never doing shrooms again.
I like it when Amish boys stare at my boobs, even tho I can't tell if it's in appreciation or disgust. Rumspringa, mothafuckers.
Why are you awake at 6am and liking photos from rando Russian chicks on Instagram?
It really does creep me out though that the next ten years will involve my friends creating smaller versions of themselves because to be honest I don't know how much I like some of them. So that thought it really scary
I'm not fucking any of these fools. But if they want to buy me Olive Garden, that's their business.
So if you wanna come get your pants you can. But you have to come in your boxers. Rules are rules!
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