I woke up this morning and saw that I had transferred $0.75 from my savings account to my checking account.
I just saw a sign that said "STRIPPERS!!! As seen on Jerry Springer!". As if Springer is the highest honor. I'm pretty sure we're in south Georgia.
I hope you don't have to start the day explaining to me how you failed to turn "Can I practice my belly dancing in your apartment" into all night sex.
Didn't know what to wear so I ripped off my bed sheets and tied myself a toga. "a little hungover" is no way to describe me right now.
Finishing last nights 1.5L of wine and beef jerky for breakfast. Work looms, ever the prickly bitch.
Irrelevant. Does he have queso? That's the real question.
My office already closed tomorrow. I'm bout to get drunk and build a muh fuckin fort. I shall call it "Fort Fuck You, Sandy, You Fuckin Bitch"
BTW, does Anne know that we used the lipstick she is currently wearing to was used to write the word "ASS" on my ass cheeks last night?
my sex drive just dried up, fell out, and is rolling on the floor somewhere.
I'm naked in a forest ranger station right now
I'm drunk. And I'm alone. Eating chicken fingers in my underwear. I'd say life is grand.
I sent her a video on Snapchat of me cumming, with a Father's Day snap filter that said "#1 Dad".
I'm actually glad the whole thing's over now. It's exhausting to fake a pregnancy.
Imagine not having to fake it.
Yeah, I should never have kids, probably.
Uber southern baptist grandma and uber flaming cousin just got into an argument about whether jesus is OK with gay marriage. Aren't these things only supposed to happen at Thanksgiving?
He deliberately gets me high because he knows I fuck better and then I make food for two. I don't know if I should feel mad or proud of him for thinking that far.
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