so that wasnt chicken after all
you're like the ceasar milan of boners... you understand them on a different level.
This is the kind of period I feel I should name out of respect to the fact I might have just gotten lucky this time.....
the only evidence i have from this weekend existing is a title page for a novel i tried writing called "the oyster who gave up drinking"
No seriously stop! I feel bad for him. It isn't even big enough to make fun of. It's so small that it's like a disability.
"Bring the kids" is the most terrifying 3 words I've ever heard in my life.
Rolled in at 3:30am from the strip club, with all the screaming I did, Siri doesn't even recognize my voice this morning,
You know he really cares when he gives you one of those on-the-go toothbrushes for your walk of shame before running to work
And then we will celebrate by drinking and making fun of him. As per usual.
There's mini weenies and empanadas everywhere...
Like actually I will be single and sad and lonely for ever. Cheese will be my life partner. Robot sex is my future.
I butt dialed her mom while cheating on her. Needless to say Christmas will be awkward.
His exact words: "I don't have anything you can't treat with antibiotics."
Kids I used to babysit are now fuckable members of my social media periphery.. Getting old sucks
I'm covered in glow paint and shame. I'm never leaving this country
Randomize
