I called you to phone bone last night, but you were out with your boring friends playing video games
we'll hang out once this whole, "your friends are robbers and drug addicts" thing blows over with my parents.
sex in a ball pit. and I thought ghandi did great things.
$100 bras are my way of telling my boobs that I love and appreciate them, and all the metaphorical doors they have opened for me.
I'm on my fifth cocktail in twenty minutes. I don't think I will end this on two legs.
Licking pop rocks off a stranger's washboard abs and kissing strangers young enough to be my kid. Yeah, it was THAT kind of party last night
I don't know what I'm more pleased with, the blowie last night or that fact that there's still 20 dollars in my wallet
Your anal douche was on bathroom counter. Now it's in dumpster. Not ok. I am mad. Very mad.
I remember us getting kicked out of the bar, but neither of us know why. We woke up next to chicken bones on a plate with spoons, and my car has mud all over it including places where feet shouldn't be, like the speakers on the car door.
Blacking out is all I've done this year and we're only 3 days in. Checkmate bitch.
and the oscar for 'most creative swearing' goes to you for 'jesus's bloody fucksticks'
With a butt like mine I'll never have to pay for Netflix again.
he kept insisting he didn't have my number, so i called his phone and my number came up as "yeaaaaaaaaah!"
I'm at that point in my life where stripping isn't the worst thing I would do for money
I do not love him. There is no love. Only sex and meatloaf.
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