I don't want to talk about it. He was like the Little Engine that couldn't get me off.
it was like fucking the hulk in a smartcar
Do the low cut shirt test. If he stares at your tits even in front of your brother, he's down.
Apparently I fed my Plan B to my turtle last night.
Yeah well I used to see how many bud lights I could slam down during the pledge of allegiance, my record was 4, but I could do better now.
i'm taking a spore imprint of the mushroom we found growing in our bathroom and sending a picture to ryan. he will then be able to tell if it's trip-worthy
currently wearing a football players overly sized underwear. discovered a shot count on my leg. I'm a tank hahahhh
Also you know what's worse than drunk texting? Drunk leaving soup on your hot neighbor's porch.
You'll have to pretend I'm texting you with buddychecks.
Like the Jimeny Cricket of cockblocks.
You stole a fry from a complete stranger. He wasn't happy. Then you said fuck it and stole the whole poutine and ran down the street while he stared in shock.
He's going to wonder why I have burn marks on my asshole
He put his SoundCloud on his Tinder bio. I felt personally attacked.
She is getting high and watching the Hobbit. I want her life.
So she is basically watching her own life story: short people traveling to strange places.
It's like I'm tryna ride my horse through dennis quaid’s vineyard
That's a sexy sentence
I don’t know what he is but he sure can suck a lollipop.
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