I don't know if it's her mysterious past or atrocious grammar, but I think I'm in love.
She told me to wait on the sofa while she freshened up. She's been in the bathroom for an hour. I have a bad feeling about this.
When we started taking double shots of vodka and chasing it with a lick of fruit roll-ups, I knew there'd be hell to pay in the morning.
He called his prostate his "boner button".
You climbed into the Suite next to us at the game so you could steal the half eaten hot dog someone had left on the table. That high.
After being his wingman last night, I've decided I will never talk about becoming a lesbian ever again. Picking up chicks is way too hard.
my mom called me mid shot and i accidentally answered and kept calling her my own name. somehow i thought that would help the situation.
I didn't have toilet paper until 20 minutes ago. But I have champagne. Priorities.
So ive come to the realization that my affinity for tattooed guys makes me the literal definition of tit for tat
I found out his moms name, maiden name, profession, and office location, his dads name and profession, his home phone, picture of their house, all of his work profiles, and the cost of their house. All I'm trying to do is find his damn twitter
The fact that it neither of us came up with the reason of "it's morally and ethically wrong" speaks volumes about this relationship
I just walked out topless, stared his brother straight in the eye, and ate all the rest of their cookie dough.
Well i would have gone to the bar but Satan decided to hold his rituals in my uterus.
I mean...he danced with his dick still inside of me. What more could a girl ask for?
Is it just me or did we have a heart to heart talk while you were naked last night?
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