i just walked outside for a cigarette and three men walked by in glitter heels and gold shiny thongs. god i love chicago
i have absolutely no control over my now miserable and whore-ish lifestyle.
Imagine that my comprehension level is that of a 7 year old and explain your plan again
bark. im thoroughly looking forward to kegs and eggs. next weekend should be pancakes and pinnical, then cereal and seagrams and then whiskey and waffles.
Like lay upon bear skin rugs, drink brandy and reminisce of the yesteryear's before a majestic fire place? Because those are my plans.
Like fighting the continuous urge to sing Neil diamond "coming to America" kinda fucked up right now
He always tells me he misses my clit. I feel like I should make a drinking game out of it
I'm almost too hungover to function. Got into the wrong car by mistake. there was a rotweiler in it. Thank god he was more confused than i was for a minute.
Well, it's a fine line between people-watching and boob-staring. It's a gray area. But we're in Paris. Let's leave it at that.
So I fucked him. Then I MC Hammer'd to the bathroom, where I did the robot in celebration of my accomplishment. And then I spent 10 mins fixing my toilet. But YOLO.
I kept having to give myself encouraging advice like, "you know how a path works"
Btw "you gettin a workout in" isn't a great gym pickup line. Like no I'm fucking grabbing lunch on my way to class.
Dinner at 5, shrooms at 10.
Just a little. Like do I say "hey I'm the girl that's fucking your son, nice to meet you"
Sitting on couch, workout sex makes me more sore than regular workout
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