The last thing I remember is you asking me how to grow french fries.
I brought up my Bobbly Flay drinking game in the interview. Of course I got the job.
I just remembered our "im drunk enough to look at your vagina" conversation. Is that offer still valid? I really think I need a second opinion
At the same time. Hot men feeding me brownies. In between rounds of sex.
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I've been living off of popsicles and broth.
I just beer bonged. Soco and spite please get on my levvl my hair is in buns
So there I was praying he didn't go limp again, choking on a long, long gray ball hair. This is my Saturday night. This. Is. My. Life.
"Functional." Your standards for how you feel after drinking are so high.
When your night starts by chugging margarita and drinking vodka out of tupperware, I feel it's best to stay realistic.
Yup. Dog walker, house sitter and mistress to the rich, bored and bi-curious. I've got a nice little operation running.
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I fucking hate tequila. Tequila makes me hate pants.
last night we were hooking up when all the sudden he just murmured "mm blonde". i don't know what to think about this situation.
Someone needs to fuck me in my slutty pumpkin costume and I would ideally like it to be you
THIS FUCKNUGGET
DOES HE EVEN REALIZE HOW MANY INCREDIBLE INSULTS I'VE WASTED ON HIM
I'VE INSULTED THE EVERLOVING SHIT OUT OF HIM AND HE CAN'T EVEN APPRECIATE IT
THE HO
I'm like a camel in the desert in a black hole I'm so thirsty.
Everybody at Lexi's party found out I'm both a screamer and a moaner after he ate me out on the pool table downstairs. Just another sunday night in Alaska
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