So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
Fell off bed. Face first. 10 stitches. huge scar on forehead. totally going to start telling ppl my parents died fighting Voldemort.
the only compliment i could think of for this chick was that she looked 'moderately attractive'
Annd you probably wouldn't of fallen down the stairs if you didn't insist on taking 'finale shots'
All she does is lay in bed and watch golden girls and masturbate all day...
It's inspiring.
Well, there goes the no drunk sex injuries resolution.
Woke up in my own bed with a "New Years Eve 2011" bar bracelet on. Both of these things confuse me.
your mom just called me and asked me why i'm not in jail with you right now.
In hindsight, the torn ligament in my knee is probably the fault of the ginbucket and jager bombs starting at 3pm. I guess I'll stop blaming it on you.
i now officially have to be stoned in order to look like my passport when i go to a different country
We literally just Chinese fire drilled so I could give him road head.
dude my grandma just called my dealer. How does this shit happen to me
HE FINALLY TEXT ME AND CALLED ME BY MY TWITTER NAME STAND BY FOR THE WEDDING INVITE, BRIDESMAID
Like I owe him sex. Hell fucking no. I owe myself sex. With a celebrity. Or a clean pornstar. Who knows.
Honestly, I want an afternoon of mild abuse, mixed with face fucking and general molestation that turns in love making, laughter and cinnamon toast crunch naked in bed.
Randomize
