I opened up her dishwasher and all I found was a spoon, a juice glass and all her sex toys.
So what's the moral of this story? Aside from 'lesbians hold grudges'?
My fight-or-flight response is really more fight-or-fuck
Operation liquormelon is in full effect. We may die tonight.
He told me he was in a Proactive commercial. It didn't seem to work for him but he was buying me shots so I slept with him anyways.
In need of cum proof mascara. Don't judge me.
Just once I'd like to throw a party where I don't have to clean up someone else's blood the next morning.
We never did figure out who the stuff on the wall came from, did we?
A blow job from a tiger shark would still entail less risk to your genitals than having sex with her.
Sorry I couldn't make it...got a scrambled voicemail, all I heard was "Bring the dildo"
I seriously think I may just have to live here. In this bed. Naked.
I changed his contact info to "NO" and a picture of satan
I'm driving to his house to eat chicken and hopefully have an orgasm
While he was going down town Julie brown, I was eating French fries. True Love
I DONT HAVE THE SOCIAL SKILLS TO EXPLAIN THAT YOU DIED EATING MY PUSSY
Come as you are, bitch. Glitter and vodka provided.
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