the bulge in his pants is not junk. its hair. trust.
I woke up face first on my living room floor arms outstretched toward the christmas tree
I was so high I couldnt even listen to music i was terrified of the potential knowledge i would gain.
I told him he was my first gentile. He was so flattered.
Apparently she ran into the Emergency Room declaring "ROOM, PLEASE" as if she were checking herself into Holiday Inn.
Your like the Mozart of blow jobs, you make every other girl seem like cheesy elevator music.
I'm crying, drinking alone and applying for jobs tonight. I figure the alcohol will lower my job standards.
Passive mediator is your role in this relationship. My role is dick punching arsonist
I come back upstairs and she's leaning over sink full of vomit saying 'oh my god it's the chili'
in other news i'm homewrecking via instagram
painting my nails while super high-drunk. Ended up painting my entire hands. Both.
I'm 22 and I'm drinking hawaiian punch from a sippy cup. Everything is right in the world.
I despise everything about her. Except her tits.
my gyno just used the expression "dick around." too far?
He passed out in my car.
What's the problem?
HE'S STILL IN MY FUCKING CAR.
Randomize
