Thanks to blow jobs, my margarita's at the bar are only 3dollars.
Thanks for making me watch you dance provacatively by yourself in the bathroom so you could see if you looked fat.
The sweet smell of jungle juice and bad decisions is calling our name.
I think he may have overheard our "how much coke would you fuck me for" conversation last night...
Drinking wine in my childhood bed getting ready to go to sleep in order to wake up for my menial temp job. Thanks, college degree, I can handle the real world.
I'm applying temporary tattoos with green beer, this is the life.
I've heard awesome things about their margaritas. I also may buy a mustache from party city. Would you do me with a mustache on??! Hahahaha. But, really.
Mr. Clingalot just ran from our apartment. What the hell?
I started to cry afterward and mumble random things. Examples: "God, please don't make me be so gay anymore" and "my mom is going to be so proud of me for fucking a dude this time." It was that or let him stay the night and cuddle. I mean, fuck that horrible shit I'm a girl that needs her space.
Hey! Welcome back! How was the bachelorette in Vegas?
A safari of penis I hurt to the core
we just drove past a kid stuck in a tree what a wonderful time to be alive
It's so weird fucking this kids aunt then going to the gym with him everyday, but my sick minded self loves it.
I love you but this is the first Saturday I have ever spent at the police station. And where are my boxers?
The worst thing about buying this extremely comfortable bed is that once I get a girl into it, all she wants to do is sleep. I want my fucking money back.
It was like if the scent of sour milk and burning tires had a baby in taste form.
Woke up. Found about 20 condoms upstairs. A hole in the couch. Bread on the floor. Going back to sleep.
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