Just found a copy of intimate toy times in my mom's trash can...
our cab driver is having phone sex.
I'm about to enter vancouver's biggest liquor store. I feel like I should sent you a "wish you were here" postcard.
This girl would not stay down. It was like night of the living dead. She kept on rising up to haunt anything with a penis
Home safe. Psyche shattered. Still rolling. In love with the morrocan rug in the living room.
You were dancing around the clubbing yelling "best wingman ever" and raising your cast in the air
fun fact #6 about tuesday nights: giving head with two 40s taped to your hands is not as easy as you would think
He will. He has no choice. What's he gonna do? Find a better fuck buddy? We both know that's not possible. I'm the ideal friend with benefit. Minus snoring and uneven tits.
I know everytime I get my paycheck I'm like "I should probably renew my gym membership" and then I just buy more alcohol
I think I left my chapstick at your house when I tried using your penis as a catapult and flung it on the floor. Be a dear, and try to see if you can find it.
Too many penises have met your hands. Stop or die.
I just overheard this sorority girl saying "It's like trick or treting but for alcohol and with no costumes." I'm jealous.
I'm sure I'll run in to him again, there's only so many VA detoxes.
That same damn squirrel keeps staring at me like I did something wrong. Nature knows when you're hung over.
Uh oh. Put down the vodka cancel the clowns and get rid of the donkey
Randomize
