I looked at my own cervix.
All I wanted to tell you is that I fucked a guy covered in fake blood, who circumcised himself.
I didn't mind getting the stomach flu from him. we had great sex AND I'm seven pounds lighter
I really don't understand how I cannot figure out how to work a fucking can opener when I'm hungover. Yet I still retained the ability to take a perfectly symmetrical picture of my erect penis and send it to every person in Matt's contacts the night before.
you were saying "i am the vodka queen!" and then in a different voice replying to yourself "all hail the vodka queen! you are so beautiful!"
Think of where it's been though. That Dr. Suess book, "Oh the Places You'll go" was written for his penis.
Nothing says I've got my life together like vomiting on the groom and passing out at your youngests sisters wedding
THESE BITCHES NOT IN MY MAJOR BETTER NOT FILL UP MY SLAVIC FAIRYTALES CLASS
If someone made a breakfast cereal that was a cross between lucky charms and fruity pebbles and called it unicorn power with a huge fucking rainbow and a unicorn standing in a pot of gold on the box, they would be rich. Not only monetarily but spiritually as well...
Its like I've been given a sexual blank check.
They way I see it is I've wasted 7 years of having these glorious tits. I only have about 3 good years left before idk kids or just gravity takes over and they don't look this nice so it's basically open season.
My sexual preferences tend to require a degree in psychology to understand
I need your opinion, is it ACTUALLY sweet that a booty call offered to walk me home with an umbrella because it was raining, or is that just low standards?
And now, by the power vested in me by the state of intoxication, I now pronounce you fucking awesome.
eveytime i go to his house my cute clothes always get taken off what's the point of even wearing them there?
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