Having dinner with my dad, watching the news and some AIDS prevention ad comes on. My dad then kindly informs me that he doesn't enjoy the feel of condoms.
I believe that I finger-banged my way to the top of the corporate ladder.
I woke up and there was 3 different size condom wrappers on the floor. What is this goldie locks and the 3 condoms???
Heads up. We filled your kiddie pool with kool-aid and vodka. Things are about to get Out. Of. Hand. Quickly.
We had sex in the tent after his 6th beer and while we were at it we had conversations with the people outside the tent.
Also, putting laundry hampers on my head and pretending I'm an astronaut is a good way to get caught in every door frame in the house.
Alright, deal. Settling two drug deals before noon is what I call a productive day. I'm not even gonna go to math, I've practiced enough numbers for the day.
Highlight of the week: I had sex with a B movie star wearing an eye patch.
What is a foreign vacation of stupidity without some fake names?
There's jello in my purse I have a mysterious glow stick and didn't sleep with anyone my god I'm 3 for 3 tonight
Every time you visit for the weekend I end up having to bleach my entire house after.
The hair on my legs is officially flapping in the breeze when I walk. I must say, being single does have perks and this is one of them.
I'm trying to watch Chicago PD and tell you I like your dick at the same time. It's a lot of work, ok?
I need to align my fucking chakras
I still have that dildo-suction bruise on my forehead and this sweater STILL smells like my Christmas Eve vomit.
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