Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
She def said "you had your chance!" after telling me she had a boyfriend. Like a pile of dogshit lecturing me on how I missed out on having itself stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
He just became a fan of Chelsea Handler on Facebook. WHY DO I ALWAYS PICK THE GAY ONE
Yes, do intervene. Unless it involves cowboys with loud trucks and hard 9 inch dicks. Then just come back for me in the morning.
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The timing couldn't have been better if I planned it. His mom walked away, I vomited in their mulch, and then his mom came back and offered me bread.
Well no need to be a stranger, even if you aren't interested in joining my bisexual polygamist marriage. New city, new friends.
As if me making pizza in a skillet wasn't enough proof that I was in no state to be cooking, this burn blister on my hand is
Just explain how I got from the bar to a house I've never been in, waking up to a cop in uniform ripping a bong
We're downstairs cleaning up and she turns to me with these big puppy dog eyes and says "Just so you know, I didn't have sex on your couch". You have to hug that.
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Like, what's the customary waiting period to hookup with your newly single ex that you never stopped hooking up with?
BURNT NIPPLES ARE UNHAPPY NIPPLES.
You go to bars with sophisticated older men, I steal lawn ornaments. Priorities
I cannot describe the pre-ejaculative horrors thru the medium of text messaging
I'M IN A SPINNING VORTEX OF SELF-HATRED AND HORNINESS
and eventually we just all took our pants off
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