It's like my work doesn't even care about margarita mondays.
3 things. 1. is this real life 2. my liver hates me 3. keg race tonight
He was fucking her while he was wiping my tears.
i woke up to something itchy on my head. it was his mustache. he fell asleep face-plant style on the side of my head. WTF?
You stuck your entire fist into a full jar of peanut butter and starting assaulting people
I don't give a damn about what he wants to do with his life. Personalities are for pussies.
I can feel my ovaries exploding thinking about them.
If a raisin and a desert had a bastard child that would be the inside of my mouth right now
FYI, his "son" is a Chihuahua.
And to be fair, I think we all suspect that forbidden sex with an outlaw biker might be worth it.
Why can't they just let me be the gorgeous cum dumpster that I know I'm meant to be?
She just. Cock slapped me. With string cheese.
I slept with six men with different nationalities this week. Who says I'm not a woman of culture?
OH GOD IT TASTES LIKE IT SMELLS
So, 'head before the store' turned into a fuck fest, & that's how I ended up at the grocery store smelling like a cum farm on Black Friday. How's your weekend?
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