all we did was drink wine and talk about how people who dont have facebook dont exist.
i've decided that sluts are like cars. they may look good as hell on the outside, but you never know what kind of shit is hiding under the hood.
Its trashy in the best of ways. Like a stripper working to pay for college.
I'm sick of being broke. I had vicodin and frosting for lunch.
I've only left my bed to pee and eat nutella out of the jar with my fingers
I dont even remember coming home... All my stuff is strewn randomly around my apartment... And I woke up at 5 sitting propped up in my bed with just my arm in a shirt
Looks like a took a video of myself beating off and passed out last night. I'm classy.
I tried to break it off with the married one. He offered to pay off my car.
The side bitch struggle is real.
I accidentally left my shirt at my booty calls house. He washed it & hung it up for me in his closet. I can't decide if that's sweet or creepy
Can I fire a pigeon out of a t shirt gun?
Preface: Im drunk. But i think id make a good assasin. That is all.
It's brunch. If you find dick at brunch. You an A+ hoe.
Can now check off "Start bar fight with my dad." on my bucket list.
You spent twenty minutes waxing poetic about her ass and her thighs
if I start to respond to these political texts with a middle finger emoji - do you think they will get the hint?
Randomize
