Vaginas are confusing as hell with all their secret compartments and shit.
I'll get my vaginal cartography poster.
Someone jacked my earrings off me or I threw em in the toilet again
I hate when that happens
I stopped in the middle of puking to wish you a happy birthday, so by default it means a lot.
Doing lines of coke with a $100 dollar bill off a 6in x 9in photo of your childhood self really tells you where you where you've gotten in life.
I'm totally wasted about to ride water slides. That's goddamn 'Merican. That and Clint Eastwood.
I know. I feel like I should be doing mature responsible adult things though. Like getting loans, working 60 hours every week and not eating burritos in bed, ya know?
You know what's even more awkward then buying plan b from someone who is a member at the gym you work at... When they come in after that day and have that look of recognition
Two ladies just showed up with my fucking purse. It was in the fucking street. I'm a train wreck. As a financial advisor, this shouldn't happen. I should be an adult.
I have bruises all over my body. Seriously, I'm a train wreck. I'm too damn old for hangovers like this.
I have an interview tomorrow and listed you as a reference. If they call you, please don't tell them about the time I smuggled a Chalupa out of Taco Bell in my underwear.
I left my ice cream out over night, it's melted, fuck this, I just poured Bailey's in it. Problems solved.
Meh, all I have to do tomorrow is proctor an AP test. No loud noises and no physical activity allowed for almost 4 hours. Sounds like the perfect recovery period for a hangover.
And I'm laying here struggling with the notion that I need to put pants on.
He has no idea I'm scrolling through Instagram while he's going down on me. I'm so bored.
How hot? Like... how many hemsworths?
It's difficult when the romantic and the hedonist in me are fighting. I want him to respect me and hopefully pursue an actual relationship, but then I remember he fucks like a GOD and loves my kink. Oh, life's hard.
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