Someone took a freaking dump on a roll of toilet paper. Next to the toilet. No shit in the toilet. Just on the roll of toilet paper.
Should I feel badly because I just bought a really hot pregnant girl a drink after I lit her cigarette?
By the end of the second bowl I was making sound effects to every hand movement he made.
I should just tell him this. He doesn't need to be all nice and ask me on dates and to do gay stuff like hangout during the day. I'll still sleep with him regardless.
I just found blacked-out interviews on my voice recorder. Go journalism.
at one point he was caressing me in the kitchen asking me my name over and over again and then asking what my favorite continent was
on the list of things i learned today that are not stripper poles: ex-boyfriends, table legs, and police officers.
She's laying here with her head in my lap stoned, eating Doritos, whining about her boyfriend, and listening to Cher. Fuck the friend zone.
You're on Grindr at the STD clinic. I love you.
I. Did. In fact. Sprain. My liver. This. Weekend.
Just looked for hours for the remote. Found it in my purse. I need to drink less.
I've really become a household name at this fraternity. Mother would be so proud.
Someone took a shit in the house somewhere and I STILL can't find it. I'm just going to move.
I have never in my life been turned down for sex until this weekend.
Welcome to my everyday.
My sensibilities as a lady demand we cuddle on the couch, and THEN have loud, raunchy sex. Idk, what do you want to do?
Randomize
