I just tipped a bartender in xanax.
i'm at the point now where i want him to say anything. even an apology for his boomerang-shaped penis would be nicer than no comment.
How does me getting a new dildo make you crave olive garden
Crashed the mayor's bday party, no list for some reason. Wore suits. Ludacris was there.
You know it was a good weekend when; you leave a bi-lingual letter of apology on top of a stack of cash for hotel housekeeping.
The jerky fairy visited my fridge. It's glorious.
I'm drunk enough to know I'm texting you and sober enough to know what I'm saying to you
Moral of the story: fuckboys never change
I have no reason to put on pants anymore. This is my new reality.
He's a cop. Do you know how many times I've said fuck the police? This is my chance. I'm taking it.
I woke up with a captain's hat on my desk.
You took acid last night and I’m up early to go to the grand opening of a new TJMaxx by my house. We couldn’t be more perfect.
He's a waste of a perfectly good penis.
Saw throw up in the parking lot at work, glad I'm not the only one. But now the search begins.
Mary's wearing shades at her desk, brilliant!
That married penis I’ve been riding offered to pay off my student loans. I was going to break it off because he has lousy stamina. Is being debt free worth putting up with mediocre sex?
Randomize
