Just threw up in airport security. Happy holidays.
I just got this text "hi this is Julie, I met you last night in the bathroom. You asked me to text you and remind you that you ate an entire lime, because you figured your sober self in the morning would be confused."
Puked in the hotel lobby and just kept walking. I love mardi GRAS.
So there I was praying he didn't go limp again, choking on a long, long gray ball hair. This is my Saturday night. This. Is. My. Life.
His fucking was so lame I considered painting my nails during...
I haven't been this unsober in a long time. I feel like I am observing myself. Like I am a test subject for alcohol. I wish my brain would shut up and let me be a normal drunk.
Also I've been at work for an hour and I've already been "honey"d "babe"d and "beautiful"d by three separate men. Apparently hungover with yesterdays make up looks good on me.
I'm gonna play this game called Conquer the Dicks. I think it is self explanatory.
You have talents. You got me laid two weekends in a row in two different cities.
Would it be irresponsible to use my tax refund for a boob job?
Yes. Highly encouraged though.
You have no concept of how high I am, do you?
I started crying during a meeting at work and now I'm sitting on my couch drinking boxed wine at 1:30 in the afternoon. Fuck you too estrogen.
I'm like a sensual ninja. You turn your head for a second and.... BOOM I'm naked. It's like a naughty magic trick.
Nothing says I'm doing some sketchy shit like coming out of your bedroom with your underwear inside out
I often worry that if I get famous, people from my past will recognize me and start talking to the media
Randomize
