my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
We got bored. So we went to planned parenthood to stare at everyone who made worse decisions than us last night.
She was Ugg boots AND a Bumpit. Of course I didn't sleep with her.
The musician playing at the bar just puked inside his acoustic guitar, then sang an encore performance. I love Louisa!!!!
You kept spitting the skittles out cause you said they tasted like "balls of sandpaper"
I was going to call you an awful person for that. but then i realized we're both awful people.
Really* awful people.
Just to save you guys the surprise, somebody shit outside of our door.
I think i smell like relationship. That's my problem.
We officially wrote our house rules 1. We do not waste alcohol 2. Pinky promises mean something 3. Don't leave your facebook open, and if you do, don't complain 4. Never refuse cuddle or catch phrase
It's not even like I care. He was cute 30lbs ago and before he fucked that Michael Jackson look alike.
He leaned off the deck, puked a waterfall of beer, looked back at everyone and said "it was just a burp".
I ate icecream cake off your tits for my birthday, if that's not love I don't know what is.
Is posting a pic on insta of my previously dyed blue pubes socially acceptable?
You know you suck at relationships when you are sitting in the airport on Christmas day, alone, swiping on Tinder.
He says the sweetest things but also that he wants to choke me when we fuck so it's kinda perfect.
Randomize
