I have decided to cut my hair. This is based solely on the fact there is too much of it to clean vomit out every Sunday afternoon.
Is it bad that I was more upset about not getting the perfume he told me he had bought for me then the actual breakup?
I knew he cared when I got his text "happy birthday to the girl who gives phenomenal head"
I just got a reminder alert on my phone for an event I titled "Bradley getting stupid high with me in bed." I assume we planned this during the party. I'm down if you are.
Sorry for rubbing my feet on you and repeating "good pony, stay."
I was wondering, is there any way to hook up a lawn hose to a keg?
In your drunken glory you promised me, tongue, 12 naked pics, and 1,800 breakfasts.
Your shoe was in the washing machine. I have it in my pocket. My phone rang before and I answered your shoe. Meet me at the bar in 10.
My night ended with a French cab driver offering me his sperm free of cost.
I'm just going to eat my milkshake, watch teen wolf, masturbate, and lament my inability to form meaningful relations with men who aren't gay
yea plus he's gonna be wearing his gumby costume so that'll take a lot of pressure off too
somehow a ride to walgreens turned into a threesome.
Why am I sleeping on top of the fridge?
You were playing hide and seek with the dog. she couldn't find you and you passed out.
You weren't stupid you just made an ass of yourself. It's called a birthday party. That's code for night of regrets.
You are, as of last night, the self declared king of pooping. Long may you reign.
Randomize
