The good thing about walking home in a dress on sunday morning is that people mistake my walk of shame as a walk to God.
I'm gonna die fat and alone and all they will find is pizza crusts
wicked high...have munchies. cherry flavor lube. problem solved.
I think I would be able to remember how to smoke but I can't seem to remember how to breathe.
She asked me to cum on her. ON her. I think we're out of the friend zone
I don't know why I've never thought to take my bong into the bathtub before.
Before I dignify that with an answer, let me get this straight. You're asking me if I wiped my ass on the towels?
He said to me this morning that we should finish these beers, go and get plan B then on the way back, go to the pub to celebrate the death of our baby. I love Manchester.
Oh god the guy I took underwear from at the bar is trying to add me as a friend on facebook now.
He said female orgasms are a myth and refuses to even try to give me one.
This is like the time you took a picture of your knees and told him it was your tits, isn't it?
He pulled his pants down and said blow me, while passing out on my bed. I then pulled his pants up as he continuously started moaning in the background.
WHYAREWHITEGUYSSOBADINBED?! What the fuck went wrong, evolution?
I don't need my coworkers thinking I'm a nutcase.
You gift wrapped a tampon.
You should probably come home from vacation now. I make badddd decisions when you're gone.
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