I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
i am sick of getting naked and seeing how fat i am.
watching E! true Hollywood story: curse of the lottery.. i'd probably spend all my money on blow and airplanes too..
He gave me a book last time I slept there. Im beginning to feel like a really weird hooker. Like instead of money he gives me random shit he has lying around. like hamburger buns
I didn't scare your mother by showing up on the roof, did I?
Moral of the story: If you're gonna throw a glass of wine in a guy's face, don't do it in your own kitchen.
I find it worrying that she bit me in bed. Then proceeded to write her name in bite marks. All without ever losing the rhythm of our fucking.
I feel like our low point of the night was when we had to start chasing with ice cubes and wheat thins.
There's always a certain something about a day that begins with your panties in your purse.
I was dancing with a blow torch in one hand and a bowl of weed in the other
Fun fact: drinking me now steals weaponry
He offered to buy me free breakfast if I stayed at the hotel overnight with him. I then realized they have a complimentary breakfast.
How does a face ride mean we're back together?
His roommate walked in then asked "well did you at least finish". What a way to start your birthday
It took me an hour to walk from my drive way to my front door... what the fuck was in that weed?
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