using my metrocard to split lines. it says optimism on the back. i am optimistic that you will appear at my door and help me finish all these drugs.
are you just going to ignore any texts involving my penis from now on? because thats going to shut down a pretty sizeable portion of our conversations.
Whiskey shot with bacon bits, our version of Goldschlager WE ARE TRYIN IT.
I just feel like a girl who's never eaten a pb&j probably doesn't swallow
You don't have a penis so I'm not texting you at this hour. This is penis texting hour only.
It was a perpetual wrestle for who got to be on bottom. Laziest hookup ever.
I think they took out their livers years ago and replaced them with like cheese graters or something. Only explanation.
I'm so excited for post-beer fest chipotle. It will be better than scared shitless pre-go karting chipotle.
Maybe if I get to know him I'll stop wanting to fuck his wife so much.
We could have a classy candlelight sonic dinner with fireball cocktails if you leave now. Twat tickler centerpieces.
This hangover is what we deserve after that level of debauchery.
taking shots alone in my kitchen before I go learn to give a lapdance. when did this become my life?
I'm keeping him.
Sex was good?
I had to tap out three times. There aren't words for how much better than "good" that is.
So I ended the trip with two cold sores, poison ivy on my leg and vagina, and no alcohol or weed. WORST. 4TH. OF. JULY. EVER.
I now have scissors specifically made for cutting dicks off.
Randomize
