we sang an acapella version of barbara ann to his voicemail...i'm not drinking again until tuesday.
Probably should plan this out. Step one: grow stache. Two: get trenchcoat. Three: Kidnap Selena Gomez.
I had better be fucking involved with step four.
thats the 2nd threesome ive been accused of this week
In 30 minutes I will have been sober for an entire month. Time for a celebratory lap of cheap alcohol that leads to early liver failure.
But happy liver failure. That's what counts.
At second job interview this week. Wearing pants to hide pole dancing bruises. This my life.
I feel like as your wife, as cool with your decision-making skills as I usually am, there should be a bigger explanation to you adopting a child while I'm in Houston.
I just haven't been myself lately. I slept with a guy 21 years older than me and I've been wearing my hair in a center part.
I think I reached some stage of aging, have a sore/injured shoulder from sex, next up carpal tunnel from sexting.
He added his name to my To Do list. That's the way to my Type A heart.
I was behind him snuggling, I told him I was the big spoon and he told me I was too little it was more like he was wearing a backpack.
I snapchatted him nudes and he didn't screenshot a single one of them because he's a gentleman.
Dude, he paid us overtime to smoke weed out of a bong at his house
It's hard picking what to wear when you know the plan is sex. Like can't I just wear my robe let's just simplify this.
Election Day 2016 shall forever live in infamy as the day when I hobbled through my neighborhood, mascara melting down my face, wearing one slipper and a cast, blood and cum all over my skirt, carrying a box of wine, and no one even noticed.
I'm about to do something based solely on the fact that a fortune cookie told me to. This may not end well.
Randomize
