TYLER... glimpse of last night: leather chaps, guacamole dip, a jump rope, spray paint, and rhinestone studded pajamas.
i think you have the wrong number... but your story sounds delightful.
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.
I literally ate my thanksgiving dinner while getting a lapdance. And honestly, after that, there is no other way.
Just think, if your stepsister would've gotten knocked up 2 years earlier, she could've had a TV show. What a bitch.
I vaguely remember walking down the highstreet with a plate of K offering lines to passers buy. I sold a line to a taxi driver.
Why doesn't the washer have a puke setting?
I was trying to be an adult about it and simply deal with the situation, but a bowl seemed much more comforting.
After a certain point, you just want to make it work. Prove to yourself that you're smarter than the vibrator.
The sense of comroderie I've built with my liver over the course of this semester is beautiful
I've now spilled wine and got poptarts all over my cast. So much for my doc taking me seriously...
...I'm not a booty call or a pizza...you can't just call/text and expect to be eating me in an hour..
after attempting to eat a candy cane bigger than my hand i have determined there's no way to eat this that doesn't seem erotic
I'm trying to find some better sex background music so his neighbors don't hate us. This is tedious.
I just found a piece of dried shredded carrot on my bed
NO NINJA FIGHTING AT THE GAS STATION
Randomize
