Let's cut to the chase. What days are we sleeping together this week?
It is a sign that I need a fresh start when Kelly Clarksons new album tells the story of my life.
I have this terrible fear I might accidentally text a pic of my dick to my grandma
Wall of shame with a backpack full of beer bottles, cowboy hat in hand, and a handlebar mustache. I was applauded by a passing car
I don't want to resort to having sex with people that actually like me.
I guess what I'm trying to get to is that my dog sneezed on my dick earlier and its really taken the joy out of my evening.
These last few days with George, grandma, and now Carrie all dying have been pushing me further and further into rum's sweet embrace.
I have to choose between charging my phone or my vibrator. This is bullshit.
I have rug burns on my nipples. Thanks for being an awesome wing girl.
Right now I'm laying face down on my carpet in my living room in the darkness sending work emails from my phone.
It's a glamorous life.
Because of you I can never eat chicken nuggets without thinking of you fucking him. I hope youre happy. I really do.
I KEEP THINKING INAPPROPRIATE SEXUAL THOUGHTS ABOUT YOU AND I AM SORRY.
I just punched myself in the vagina to prove a point. Please pray for me.
Well, thanks for not letting me sleep with anyone, but no thanks for telling everyone I have the clap.
What's the point of having a gay best friend if he doesn't play with your titties?
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