is that paris hilton dressed up as the guy from star trek who hosts reading rainbow
I don't believe in a God but I'm almost positive I just shit out the devil.
I'm calling you out on twitter if you don't come over right now.
FYI you just passed out mid-blow job. Consider this my letter of resignation.
You picked me up and threw me on a barstool and shoved shots in front of me.
Thats like the definition of a good friend
I figured, if I'm going to wear a gold cape its pretty safe to assume I'll be blacking out as well.
Middle of vacation, he walked into an audition for a Broadway musical in a drunken stupor. I think he got the part.
I feel like this has turned into my work. But if I get paid sitting under a desk, that's perfectly fine with me.
He's freaking out just because my cat licked his balls while he was fucking me
you strike me as the kind of person who when they spill something on their lap they take off their pants and eat it anyways. right off the crotch seam.
I have just found the cubicle of sustenance. And I will rejoice at all the families that have not found this magic. This vodka cubicle of magic.
But now he's gone and I'm exhausted and my vagina is yelling at me and I want a cheeseburger
THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE AND HEAVENLY LIGHTING IS NOT HELPING THE NOT DEAD POINT HOW DO I NOT KNOW YOU ARE NOT TEXTING ME FROM THE AFTERLIFE
The after life smells like latex gloves and hand soap
so evidently blowing a guy does not mean he will say hi to you when he sees you in class.. in case you're ever wondering
If it makes you feel any better, I can't find the goldfish I dropped like five minutes ago.
Randomize
