In a tragic sexting typo, I typed the word "blobjob". Now she's coming over and I have no idea what I'm in for...
I'm gonna make this happen. You think it would be too forward to text him my room number with turn by turn directions straight to my crotch?
She left scratches down my back from her wedding ring. Her husband seems like a nice guy though, judging by the scratches it had to be at least a carat.
I think I explained what happened in the voicemail. But I think I might have just cried and ranted about how cool osiris shoes are
I wanted to be mature but the vodka was resilient.
It's been over a year since we've been get-so-drunk-you-throw-beer-cans-at-fat-girls-drunk together. That needs to change.
He sent me a mirror pic of himself and sent it to me and all i could think about was the amazing bong hits i took with his roommate in that bathroom.
Making a me burrito to ward off the cold...and the aloneness of my vagina
This is that think about life weed. Thank god I'm in American lit this semester. I can actually write papers in this vat of introspective stoned.
oh my god. picked the worst day ever to not wear underwear...
I'm just gonna stop you right there because there is, in fact, no such thing.
I'll call it a tollerance break and either will be celebrating my new job with a bowl or will be smoking my sadness away from not getting the job. Either way.
Last night I watered my lawn and smoked a joint then cooked a steak. I'm really killing this adulthood thing.
I'm worried about us. We are almost 30 and we still drink jaeger bombs till we black out. Wait, no I'm not. I'm excited about us.
If I could tell my younger self three things it would be: 1. Smoke a lot more weed 2. Have a lot more sex 3. Own a good set of pots and pans
I don't feel like that was meant as a compliment, but really still feels like one
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