We did lines off of a Whitney Houston CD case. That makes everything okay.
My face is tingly. And my legs are being massaged by golden elves.
It was all cool until he grabbed my vag and started screaming: THIS IS MINE.
I'd bet your vomit would be flammable at this point. Can I try to light it?
We wouldn't be friends if you didn't.
I've got to admit, I'm a little hesitant about giving him road head. I've seen how he drives and I've seen how he acts when I give him head. A small part of me is saying this is going to end badly.
Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?!
I feel like you just railed me after that sext
I woke up this morning with a pop tart under my pillow with one bite eaten. Another pop tart was in the floor. No recollection whatsoever. I ate the one under my pillow for breakfast, though.
Can't you just imagine you've grudge fucked me so we can get past this?
What does it say about my expectations if I'm pounding three beers the hour before a date?
i have to vacuum my washing machine now, asshole
You sent me a snapchat of you hugging a beer with the caption "best friend"
Always keep a stash of tequila in your work desk. That is like adulting 101.
If sending nudes to tinder boy is considered functional then yes.
I expected my Sunday morning walk of shame dressed as a sexy Dorothy would get some scorn, but nobody seems to even care
That’s because it’s 2020. The slutty costume walk of shame is a refreshing reminder of a time when wearing masks and catching communicable diseases was a right of passage, not everyday for the foreseeable future.
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