They have to be talking about me. I never heard that statement until I was born.
He’s a liberal pot smoker and perfect for me. He invented a game where we have to smoke a joint every time you hear a Middle Eastern accent on NPR.
God is so good, I would give him a blow job right now.
Life lesson: Don't give a drunk girl a dutch oven after having taco bell. She puked all over my pillow. Funny as hell though.
What if we had a smart house and we could just say "baked" and it would rain donuts?
We talked about all of the sex positions that would better allow him to feed me grapes. I think I'm in love.
Ia nefed hefelkp i am a taxi
sudden memory flashback: you and i having sex on the bed, erin sitting naked in your desk chair drinking whiskey straight from the bottle while harassing you for your computer password to play some "mood music." high five. go us.
Please make the clown in the corner stop judging me. I mean he's the one with paint on his face. I don't need him judge judying me.
Like please, take your microdick and try to stick it someplace else. It is not welcome in my world.
Omg have I shown you my skeezy ex fiancée?
The other one.
It's like the first time your mom catches you masturbating. We both know what she saw. We're just not talking about it...
Why is "Oprah of drinks" written on my arms?
You said to write it on you, after you kept saying, "You get a drink, you get a drink, everyone gets a drink."
Damn. Looks like nobody I know is doing anything interesting. Guess it's another slut-it-up-with-strangers sort of night.
Well when I woke up this morning I didn’t think I’d be masturbating to my own LinkedIn profile today but here we are
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