Is it sad I memorized the exact change required for a #7 at Wendy's?
The savings from $3 shots still doesn't add up to plan-b
We're official. Living with your boyfriend sounds so much better than fucking your roommate.
conquered wheelchair sex. it's rather convenient. you'd think it was made for it, with all those handles and adjustable features.
Sitting here wishing there were men in my life.
me too. too bad ive decided to fill that hole with cookie dough, closing the door to future men one fat cell at a time.
i just saw some one pass a baby through the drive-thru window at dairy queen.
He warned me he may piss the bed. I'm oddly okay with this.
It was a new level of awkwardness and terror. The high schoolers you fuck in the summer should never introduce themselves to your mom and godmother
Please tell me I did not ask the bartender how big his dick was.
Realized it was likely to be cursed, didn't want my own Johnson magically turning into some sort of fire breathing reptile and eating me
That is an interesting fear as well as image
Last thing I remember is ranting about hating pants. Woke up this morning pants less. Couldn't find them, decided to leave. Driving without pants is surprisingly liberating.
I'm in public and Taylor Swift is playing. It is taking all my effort to not screech like a goat.
I took it as a sign from the lord above that she wanted me to creep on these men.
It's official. My little brother has had more sex in my car than I have. I'm still tied with my little sister. I hate everybody.
I woke up and there was a huge blow up palm tree in my bed...
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