think i got pink eye from a stripper in vegas. showgirls did not prepare me adequately for this. be kind, 2010.
I was going through my mom's high school yearbook...almost half the people who signed it referred to her as "Karen Smokejoints", "Confused Karen", or drew a picture of a joint. I have never felt more like her daughter.
we've started having sober sex
you really do like him
I'm using process of elimination to determine which of our neighbors i fucked last night.
Had her hockey skates on in the house. Whole floor is ruined.
Her bed looked like it had just hosted a water balloon fight. It was that good.
He doesn't need to speak English. He needs to speak sex.
But seriously, I hug most of my drug dealers.
This conversation has now reached a level of awkward that even a passerby streaking hobo couldn't break.
P.S. I just made up pleasure scepter for the purpose of that last message.
He was "hot guy in the dark". One of us had to sleep with him. I took the bullet you're welcome.
I didn't know. I guess I really haven't had that much time for drinking lately. I mean, outside drinking at home/work.
I want to sit on top of her nipple mountains and reenact the Ricola commercial.
I am 95% sure I just heard my cat say "What are you doing home? It's Saturday night."
This is not a drill. I need a cape. And a tuxedo. Simultaneously. Repeat. NOT. A. DRILL....
Randomize
