I'm curled up in a ball on the floor of my office with the lights off. I hope no one notices. No more open bar. Woof.
I've been here 20 minutes and some creepy old man told me he wanted to know what my insides felt like. I hate gay bars.
I told him we couldn't have sex because I was ovulating and "I come from fertile people."
Rolling one last joint on my Psych textbook before trading it in. I might actually cry.
Worst case scenario: I have VD and will die. That's the worst that could happen. As long as I'm around long enough to see the winner of bachelor pad, I'm cool
Breakfast-of-shame with my mother. I was in half of a sexy Mad Hatter costume. We had artisan bagels and judgement.
You were walking around in your swim suit, an open robe, snow boots and a death grip on that handel of captain morgan.
New wedding record, my shirt was off by 8pm!!!
All I know is that I'm not gonna send out SOS messages via twitter for your rescue this time.
I shit you not ... they just advertised a recruiting service for strippers at this concert.
I managed to get through my meeting without throwing up in someone else's office, so there's that for an accomplishment today.
The cat just walked up and made eye contact with me while I had sex. I'm going to have to burn the house down with him in it.
I shotgunned a beer immediately puked and rallied. And by rallied I mean had sex in the bathroom after he held my hair.
What a gentleman.
And for the record I didn't even have sex last night. I threw up in his toilet and slept in his bed until noon
Is there such thing as a tasteful dick pic? I think I just got one if they exist.
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