the party we crashed was not a party. the party we crashed was jens grandads funeral.
dude, she masturbates with a ken doll.
sorry for covering your dog in whipped cream. his bark made it sound like he wanted it.
No he exists. Who else tells me no matter how drunk I am to pull out. He's watching over me so my bastard doesn't get created.
We bonded over the fact that we each, separately, got arrested on the same weekend.
Concert was great. Tackled the lead singer. Met him afterwards. He was cool about it.
For months it was all good and well just having sex. Now, something in me has snapped and I'm dreaming of taking turtleneck Christmas pictures with him. Fuck you, we're going out tonight. I need this.
I had to hypnotize my roommate last night so there's that.
I have a corndog on my dresser and a trashcan of puke. Thanks for a great night!
All I want is a wedding with a dress and a veil and where I can go and my cat can go.
Why is no one on Snapchat tonight? I want to see other people having fun so I know it still exists.
I TAUGHT HER CAT TO SIT. CATS DON'T FUCKING SIT ON COMMAND. BUT THIS ONE DID!
It's basically my crowning achievement.
WAIT this kid is eating yogurt with a fucking ladle. what is happening?
Would you say that skipping class and sitting alone in my room singing One Direction to myself and sobbing is an acceptable way to deal with the break-up
This is your post bachelor party survival text. This a free and complementary service to make sure you are still alive. For alive, say yes. For hurting, say ugh. If lost, say help. If dead, please feel free to not respond. Thank you and we hope you enjoyed the party.
Randomize
