she was left over bi-product, like the hotdog of the human race
Defrosting my mini wheats in the microwave was a bad choice
did i by any chance text you anything about feathers last night?
you mean faeutihaers?
We ran out of toilet paper the last week, so we just took showers to pee
He's prob getting laid right now and I'm sitting alone in my duct tape shoes.
I have six drafts of messages to you that just say "blood" and I have no idea where they came from.
I've had to much cheese to give a fuck about anything. im tired.
I invited you and you fucked me in the face with the penis of disappointment and shit.
Remember that picture you sent me of you trying to eat the flower arrangement in the bathroom at that restaurant?
Unintentional and slightly frustrating adventures are basically all I'm good for. Expect heart palpitations, cheap food, and homeless men serenading us.
Sex in a hot air balloon, top that one!
And then I realized my chick friends consist only of sober you, drunk you and hungover you
I threw my back out having sex last night. I don’t know whether to high five myself for a job well done or cry because I’m old.
How is it that I can make it to my 8am Friday morning still drunk after passing out the night before...but not to my 9am on Tuesday that I went to bed early for? Irony or karma?
My boob job is like a master key that gets me in any door, any party and anyone’s pants! They’re magical!
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