By the grace of god and the ingenuity of Alexander Graham Bell, this text message is made possibe: YOU ARE A WHORE
He told me that he wishes our relationship was more like prison: less touching, more butt sex.
First drunken handjob: not successful. Second handjob, mostly sober: much better. Nightly news brought to you by me.
I vaguely remember walking down the highstreet with a plate of K offering lines to passers buy. I sold a line to a taxi driver.
I have no idea why I said that. I have no idea why anything happened last night, I broke my toaster making a egg. I'm going to quit drinking.
I will pee on everything he values.
You are. Embrace it. But you are the right kind of asshole.
I'm running on 2 hours of sleep. Just spent 6 minutes staring at the back of my hand thinking: "I don't really know this that well"
I will be single by the day my lease is up (234 days). Plan accordingly.
I think I pulled a muscle in my tongue.
sorry? thank you? I love you?
Holy shit last night was like the irresponsible Olympics for me
I couldn't find a water bottle, so I sent her to school with her juice in a flask. Who the hell let me become a parent?
I looked into this "it's just lunch" matchmaker thing and it was like 5 grand. If I'm gonna spend five grand I'll throw in another three and get new tits and find my own fucking husband.
My boss asked me to pass over one of my business cards and instead I had condoms fall out of my wallet, how’s your day going??
Dear Douchebag, I would just like to formally issue this fuck you. You will be receiving a letter in the mail soon. With all of your stuff.
Randomize
