Omg. Get me out of here. Someone is playing michelle branch.
Walk-of-shaming home from Brooklyn in a Jesus costume that has "what wouldn't Jesus do" written on the robe.
then he tried to tell me how many times he had seen Scott's dick. his estimate was about 180 times. he thought I didn't understand.
Called my dealer in tears and we talked for an hour until I felt better. That's the way it should be.
I defriended her. I just can't support someone whose profile picture is of their water birth.
He said he was gonna go pull a lochte and the next thing we know he's outside ass naked peeing in the neighbors kiddie pool.
I'd apply for another job, but "staring out windows crying" is not a hot qualification right now.
I Pavlov-trained him by smacking him in the nuts anytime I caught him looking at another girl in public. To this day, he's afraid to break eye contact with me in a restaurant if a tall busty blonde walks in.
I'm in the fetal position watching the little mermaid and trying not to die. When do you come home?
I just don't understand how she's willing to go through so much planning and effort just to get a dick inside of her
Good night I hope you dream about knitting and threesomes
Ate 3 ghost peppers and chased them with Everclear last night. Currently on the toilet cursing the universe and everyone in it.
The tequila monkeys have a drum solo in my skull right now. I can't imagine Emily feels better.
Quick question—how good are you at digging holes? I mean, besides the one you've dug for yourself. asking for a friend
Even after hearing me fuck his friend twice in one night, he still follows me around like a puppy.
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