The good thing about walking home in a dress on sunday morning is that people mistake my walk of shame as a walk to God.
Why I am the classiest girl you know: just mixed drinks for everyone on the baby changing station at the movie theater.
I don't know whether I should be pissed that there's glitter in my bed or proud that there's semen in there too.
she just threw a smoke bomb in an elevator and ran down 9 flights of stairs to see it at the bottom.
i need to buy one of the child leashes to wear at mardi gras or else im never making it out alive
having someone tell me to "prepare my vagina" is not really something I want to hear..
Its 11am, im in the city in a pocahontas outfit, lost a heel and found a gold rolex in my lingerie.
Hurricane my ass. I'm riding a god damn kayak down the flooded highway if it's the last god damn thing I do, god damnit.
If there's so much of a hint of a whisper from somebody I didn't tell personally, I will cut off your balls with a chainsaw, cauterize the wound with a flaming rusty spoon, feed your balls to your dog, and feed them to you when he shits them out, capiche?
You know you're too high when you find yourself crying at " hand in my pocket" by Alanis Morissette because it's "just TOO REAL"
It threw me off a little. I had to take a moment and ask myself, "Is he really fingering me in his mom's kitchen while I eat a whopper?"
Isn't it funny how we're still best friends after that incident with the old lady in the bathroom
You fucking bailed on me. But I love you still
You are hungover. Your arguments are irrational an incoherent. We only played twice. Have some Gatorade and take a knee.
ya figured it'd be nice to explore the mythical world of sober sex i've heard so much about
i've often wondered how it works
Skipping class. Wanna Drink now?
yea. just give me 15 min to write a paper.
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