This is some kinda fucked up sordid doggy brothel peepshow bullshit.
Went home with a guy 2 " his house". Woke up this morn on couch to parents cooking breakfast, piss all over my back and he is no where to be found. That fuckr pissed on me and bounced. His parents are gonna think some drunk bitch pissed their couch.
he borrowed my computer and saw his name in my recent google searches. Things got awkward real fast.
I had a dream that our used condom started talking to me. I told me that I did an amazing job, and told me that it saved me. From aids.
He is juggling broken glass botttles, I think its time to cut him off...
He talked me into making a sex video, no worries though, I was wearing sunglasses.
I mass texted 4 of you for a booty call. Please reply all when responding so only one of you shows up. Last one is a rotten egg.
I don't care if I just threw up. You kiss me now. This is marriage.
When did I go from having sugar daddies to being one? And does it count as a tax write off?
Taking a shit on the side of the road is not how I imagined this morning would start.
He's not very smart so he didn't know I was yelling at him with monologues from Scandal.
i just got drunk and created an entire Dr Seuss unit for my first graders.
I just woke up hand cuffed to the bar and shirtless, so yeah I think I need you to come get me.
I have just received a gold-medal-deserving sext. He wrote me a fucking novel. Not only am I incredibly turned on but I am beyond impressed. He is the sext god. I must bow to him.
Btw, apparently no one knows who ordered the pizzas for the after party, no one paid, and the delivery lady made a celeb shot, took a beer, then said she'd be back later to finish up the game...
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