I don't know what's more sad: The fact that he fingered the side of my leg, or the fact that the side of my leg feels like a vagina.
I have started doing my homework in bars. It just feels right.
you don't seem to understand just how much pasta i spilled on my bed last night.
Last thing I remember was you straddling a guy in a wheelchair on the dance floor.
If we break up, I want weekend visitations with your penis.
There's a warrant out for his arrest for throwing a mannequin through a bus stop.
I sold weed for gas money to get home. I thought that's what college was for.
Also, ran into my neighbor across the street. He told me about scheduling his vasectomy. We are officially way beyond the acceptable point for asking his name again.
Apparently being drunk on a southwest flight and yelling "TURNUP" during take off is looked down upon in this state.
All I've done this weekend is cum and drink. I think it's safe to say I'm dehydrated.
Today I had sex and flossed at the same time. My relationship goals have been exceeded.
Come home, I'm drunk on the porch and pretending to smoke breadsticks like cigarettes. Enticing, right?
Leave it to me to pull up my boyfriend’s grandfather’s obituary just to find out the name of his sister.
You ran up a $300 bar bill on his card and he didn't have you arrested, be grateful and move on.
I'm on a walk of shame carrying YOUR pants. You owe me.
Randomize
