I'm to the point in my high that every song eventually turns into Lady Gaga
I hid my booze in my old Sesame Street lunch box. Big Bird might be disappointed, but I feel Oscar the Grouch would approve.
He's drinking red wine in a margarita glass. He couldn't be more perfect for me.
The trip involved octopus tentacles coming from the little holes in my TV's speakers. The beauty of the nonexistant symbolism had me in tears.
I mostly enjoyed dancing with him because his boner was scratching my bug bites.
I bought him bourbon as a thank you for his apology. What is wrong with me?
He wants me to tell you "my boner misses you"
He said he'd prefer a photo rather than discuss politics, I sent him a snapchat "conservative shorts 4 conservative man". He said "be liberal"
who knew magic tricks and sex would actually go together?
There was a clear and well defined point last night where I could've decided to go home but no now I've woken up with glitter all over my nuts and potentially an std or 2
gin. gin. Gin. GIN GIN GINGINFFdJH
I went out to dinner with the girls thinking I'd be home early. Instead I ended up in the Englishman's hotel room. Long Live The Queen.
Is it bad that if I found out I couldn't have kids I'd be more pissed that I've been using unnecessary condoms than the fact that I'll never be a mother?
Just got back from a Walmart run. The music went straight from Kid Rock to John Phillip Souza. If that doesn't scream 'MURICA I don't know what will. Happy 4th!
I want you inside me. Finish your papers.
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