Riding home in a carseat. Worst. Night. Ever.
I was so high last night. I wrote a poem about my salt shaker
I'd like to come home and be able to sleep in a bed that's not filled with crumbs from you getting too high and passing out while eating. This is seriously getting ridiculous.
I have never made a good decision in that bathroom...
blah blah blah they called me an alcoholic because I threw my beer at a Jesus freak. it was for the best
I want to let you in on my two latest life goals. Have a photograph of me squirting whipped cream into a midget's mouth, and have sex on a roof.
This is breast cancer awareness month... The least we can do is give a stripper some singles.
I guess I could probably fit that in between deep self reflection and teenage mutant ninja turtles
so when our kids ask "when did you know you loved mommy?" you're gonna say "when she sent me emoticons about slobbing on my knob?"
All three of us got laid last night. This is what is commonly referred to as the Trifuckta.
I just really don't even know what I would do with a boyfriend... Like do I just kiss it and then leave it in the corner? Like how often does it eat??
If muffins & morning blowjobs don't make him happy, frankly, I don't think anything will.
He didn't have much of a personality. But I had like 100 orgasms, so that's cool.
He's nice and all but I think I rather masturbate my way to happiness instead.
That same damn squirrel keeps staring at me like I did something wrong. Nature knows when you're hung over.
Randomize
