Holy jesus god. My teeth taste like street.
capt morgan doesn't hurt if you honestly believe it's golden flavored kool-aid.
Ok I can't be your drugdealer AND booty call AND friend. It just doesn't work that way
I'm already at the bar. It's 2 PM. Help
she said my body looked tiny like it was a bad thing and then didn't even mention how great my tits look. it's like we're not even friends.
Apparently I mistakenly called the hair club for men at 3am... they called me back this morning.
Well, at first I was really confused. But then I realized that he was talking from his penis's perspective... in third person.
ughh I puked about 4 times on metro, no one seems to like the cool design I made on my shirt
Our lady landlord called. Dot worry, I handled it. Drunk. Tell her it was Nate. Done. Good. Bye. Drunk.
Maybe it was that imaginary ghost dick you were stuffing in your mouth a minute ago
I am seriously thinking about wearing a blanket as a cape. So when I pass out tonight the blanket might keep me warm.
Positive reinforcement! I'm training him for being a good boy and coming over. He gets sex and cookies.
All I got was pictures of my boss and dicks. So, that was the end of snapchat.
Just so you know, I choose to answer your bootytext tonight because it was the most creative.
He gave me an ambien and I woke up with a raw chicken bone in my purse. I have no idea why but I hope I put it in his butt
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