I woke up to a paper award certificate for best blow job and he was gone. You're welcome mystey man.
part of it is the fact that im problem drinking, and the other part is my OCD wont let me leave the bottle half-empty.
Dude they have ski ball. Anywhere that has skiball is bound to be bangin.
she uses eco-friendly sex toys. she is the literal definition of a hippie.
its like..once you have one emotional drunk night, you can't stop. i feel like i have to end every drunken night in tears and i dont think my roommates think it's heartwarming anymore
I'm just pissed at the whore who takes over my body when I'm blacked out.
I have words... I can't think of them tho. they keep melting together and forming you and I just want to hump it.
So I'm not dead, but close call. I think I can handle one more bar.
I'm at a restaurant. I am NOT about to discuss my asshole over the phone.
Nope. Turns put my desperate group message for sex didn't work out.
Well you sent it to two guys who were roommates.
They could have rock paper scissored for it. My vagina = the prize.
I feel like I got hit by a truck. And I vaguely remember getting into an argument with a passive aggressive Ron Burgundy in a onesie- grown man, not a baby- about the pronunciation of New Orleans
Things that don't wash off in the shower: black eyes and hickies.
easy for you to say. you're not the one who has to explain why you woke up with a pineapple and a used condom.
How drunk were you? in an effort to seduce him, you demonstrated your lap dance skillz on his dog.
Nothing says “I spent too much in Vegas” quite like eating a jar of pickles for dinner and planning on cream of celery soup for breakfast tomorrow.
Randomize
