Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
At what point last night did I start ordering doubles?
Right after we had the just friends talk..
omfg. get on facebook. the science olympiad team had a rave.
I just tried to sell my homemade "lightning bolt stencil for pubes" on Etsy.
Take this only to mean that we love you, but we're having a serious, half-hour, hypothetical discussion about how far we think we could throw you.
I tried really hard to get you laid last night. And by that I mean I asked a bunch of dudes if they were top or bottom.
You were sad because he was "taking it out on the plant"
He tried to write down the address for the cab on half a bagel.
She didn't even ask about the dinosaur pinata in my trunk. Like at this point I think these are the things she expects from me
Hungover/still slightly drunk at work. Opened a bag of cheese with a box cutter. Pretty sure I need stitches.
I'm having a really difficult time dealing with the fact that my dog now shares a name with Snooki's crotch-spawn.
I mean I want to be happy but it's a train wreck that you can't look away from
I cannot be with a girl who won't let me come home on my lunch break, eat spicy ranch and watch Breaking Bad without pants on. #lesbianproblems
If you're wondering about the mess, we had sex in the kitchen. There was noodles involved.
Almost gave myself a concussion stealing a stuffed unicorn hanging on a street sign but hey I got home safe
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