Actions speak louder than pants.
I think I've lost the thrill of being a slut. It's just that the newness has worn off, I think.
I have a feeling she doesn't appreciate me as a person. She only fucks me because I look like Harry Potter.
Just drug him and when he wakes up be like "you just woke up from a coma, we've been married for the past five years." It'll be like the Vow but fucked up.
When Vanessa's kindergarten teacher called me in because she was caught with her hand down some boys pants in the bathroom, I knew you babysat last week.
The bathroom smells like ribs. What did you do?
I am taking a candle lit bath, blasting some tupac and smoking a fat bowl. This is how every night should end. Did you go take a piss in his car yet?
I was figuring I'd break up with her after work, but before Taco Tuesday
Sarah is throwing up still and I'm eating salad with my fingers
This is what happens when you leave: I get all vulnerable and I make out with the cowboy to shut him up about Jesus.
I woke up with a dread of barbecue sauce in my hair. Drunk munchies makes me a disgusting person.
Whatever, ill dance on the bar at applebees, don't try and act like you're above it.
Are you alive? Cause this is my official "im actually alive" text.
I just don't think it's that outlandish to ask that I don't get messages from my husband at 8:30pm on a Wednesday telling me he peed on our cat
You took your shirt off at the bar, handed it to a girl, and made her wash your dirty shirt on your washboard abs
tuesdays get the best of me...
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