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.
He asked me to touch his mustache. Should I go home with him?
I would describe it as pure and unadulterated shock, mixed with horror and a touch of nausea.
She told me I should be a condom model.
I'm already mentally preparing myself for the fact that I'll probably be sleeping next to a toilet.
Just because Aaron is a gender neutral name does not mean I am letting you name your baby after a drug dealer
well that explains the french fry and ketchup packet rolled into the wasitband of my sweats. thank you drunk me.
Fuck off I wasn't that drunk. I was still able to toss froot loops in the air and catch them in my mouth.
And in your bra. It was quite entertaining.
I need two food groups: booze and turkey sandwiches
Let's just say his oral game was lacking. Hell, lacking is too nice of a word to describe it.
his mom called during sex and he made me talk to her I think we're getting serious
He's ruined me. Do you know how frustrating it is to know I'll never find another guy as tall and handsome and rich with as big of lips & booty, and cock as him who also rims and takes me on tropical vacations and buys me all the cocaine.
My phone has started autocorrecting "monogamy" to "monogamish"
Ate 3 ghost peppers and chased them with Everclear last night. Currently on the toilet cursing the universe and everyone in it.
Okay so I just had a really great idea
no.
Randomize
