I just threw up during my phone interview for the largest PR firm in the world.
So there I was.....spitting on my goldfish just to keep it alive.
With any luck I will spend the duration of this flight with my tray table up my seatbelt securely fastened and my face in his lap
AND OMG I HOPE YOU ARE GREAT WITH CHILD. COOK THAT BUN!
Can you please reassure him im not a scary or intimidating person? And that really my entire life is a series of completely ridiculous events that have led me here?
I'm not about to serve this country to fuckin not have rum and cheezits for breakfast
Oh and apparently Friday night I came home and tried assembling the Christmas tree until my mom just told me to go to bed. Blackout.
Running errands with mom, cool. Coming to pleasures with mom for her valentines night, not ever in a million years cool.
The smell of mosquito spray completely ruined the sex.
I told people at my moms bar that all I needed to sober up was to get my asshole licked, and I blame you 110%.
How was my night? He had a picture of his mom on his night stand and he yelled "Papi like" when he came. Fuck tequila.
Typical Sunday morning text...are you alive?
Omg in one week, two guys with their own names tattooed on their bodies had their tongues in my mouth. Self loathing shall commence now.
Is it bad that whip cream tastes like sex to me?
And on the 323rd day without sex, God finally said let there be light...or love?
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