your room smells of hookers.
And success
I don't think I can fit "I'm sorry for ruining Christmas" on one cake. Better make two.
Apparently I did my philosophy paper last night. It's not bad either.
This whole foot fetish thing is getting out of control. He would rather hold my feet than me after we fuck.
For a second, I wondered if I could smoke pizza.
I woke up covered in blue paint and my knee bleeding, when I went to return the shopping cart the guy in the elevator laughed hysterically. I'm having a good morning.
I stopped understanding conversations unrelated to vodka two vodkas ago.
It's like being the dunk pilot of a plane full of pornstars and drunkenness.
He kept pouting and saying i cockblocked him and I kept yelling "I'm sorry...but the cock was never out to be blocked"
I've got to stop giving the gift of vagina for every occasion. I'm exhausted.
The last thing I remember was paying off her younger brother not to judge me, then puking on his shoes.
this is a preemptive text before you call me freaking out: i have your keys and your car is parked safely a block down from your apartment.
you are a goddess
Currently looking up Winnie-the-Pooh porn.
DONT YOU DARE YELL AT ME. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TRIED TO PAY FOR THE CAB WITH YOUR PANERA REWARDS CARD.
I DEMAND FORESKIN
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