I fell off the front porch last night. Actually.. I dove. I dove off the front porch.
my brother is a facebook fan of two things: God, and Rhianna. if he's not a prime example of the rare "baptist closeted gay," i don't know who is.
well most of my day revolves around power hour
for me the strap perfect is like a chastity belt
I went to the gas station and the lady goes I remember you. Broken sunglasses and puke on your car.
I just call them the hipster frat because they wear shirts other than pastel polos and listen to MGMT while playing dice.
No more jager for that guy. He jacked the neighbor kids big wheel, rode around making jet noises, then passed out behind the wheel and rolled it and broke his wrist
it says 'tasty bitch' in sharpie on my tits...
Can we just discuss how hundreds of miles away we were both beyond drunk and in some boys bed. That is the definition of friendship.
He's an acquired taste, like S&M or those crunchy things they put in salads
Croutons?
Eight drinks in. Subject is fondling chips before eating them. Intoxicated texting has expanded from best friend to random guy I met in FBLA.
I'm now using my vagina for good, not evil. Trying to restore balance to the force.
Scientific fact: if he makes a face like a demonic dog when he's fucking you, makes it easier to fuck without feelings.
I've been trying to fall asleep with ice packs covering my vagina for the last hour... Sorry for being vulgar. I'm going to kill myself.
Thank you for stopping me from getting a butt tattoo. That was a good call.
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