I've thrown up so many times in the third floor bathroom of Baldwin that they should probably just go ahead and name it after me.
My life has become a never ending game of 'illegal or just frowned upon?'
we already have meals planned for the weekend.
SEMEN IS NOT A MEAL.
To celebrate your birthday last night, I got drunk and sang drift away in buffalo wild wings. Happy birthday. The entire bar sang the chorus with me. It was magical.
there's chocolate cake in my bathtub.. I don't even want to know how the hell chocolate cake wound up in my tub..
She called him at 5 AM so that he'd be ready for her birthday breakfast and drinks at 6. This is why people don't need to wait until their 21st to have their first drink.
On a totally unrelated note, captain four hour sexcapades lost it in his boxers this morning and tried to pretend it didnt happen. Lmao
It's like a squid of pain has attached to my head and it spreading it's whorey tentacles all over.
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
I just shit my pants and had a heart attack. Simultaneously. May or may not be related to this game.
So it's official the pockets of my work apron exist solely for the purpose of secretly flipping off asshole customers and not losing my job.
If you gave someone an std. would you say a muffin basket, a candy gram or an edible arrangement is a better choice to send them?
Potholders are an underrated garment. Especially naked.
Its just akward. Everytime he tells me he loves me, I have to respond with, I love having sex with you. and he just stares at me in amazement
When the people downstairs start talking about drugs, I second guess buying my drugs from them. Then I remember they are cheap and convenient.
Randomize
