the bulge in his pants is not junk. its hair. trust.
they had a keg party to fund her abortion.
I got to the point where it seemed like she had 8 giant breasts instead of just two
His apartment number was 69. I had to.
I'm like the Mother Theresa of booty calls.
I'm a lady, I can't pee on the ceiling. Even I don't have that power.
I'm not drunk enough to eat silly string
Come to me. Jacob is confessing his love and all I want is a hot dog. With chili. Not love.
You can't be mad because the taco bell people like me and not you. I'm not the one that puked in front of them.
And I feel bad.
Because we're having a serious discussion about our sex life and you're playing minecraft?
I'm sure you're still partially crippled from thar blow job on Saturday, so I understand it's probably difficult to text.
My goal in life is to ruin sex for someone. To be so mindblowingly unreal that they can never find anyone like me ever again. So far it's going well.
She started throwing ice at me and started yelling, "Holy water bitches! This is an exorcism!"
Don't drink and try to take a shower. I thought I was drowning
I'm just bringing him "breakfast," and breakfast may lead to lunch and dinner, but that doesn't mean I want the mealplan.
Randomize
