Nothing too bad. Lost a stuffed horse on a stick and tore my clothes off. Again.
I swear ... this hickey is a map to Amelia Earhart's whereabouts
woke up this morning with a pool of champagne in my purse. apparently i was saving it for later.
i just woke up to seventeen texts from you saying all the things you would have done for a french fry.
Does Vicodin go better with white or red wine?
So, do you ever feel like EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS IS INVOLVED IN A MASSIVE AND INTRICATE CONSPIRACY TO COCKBLOCK YOU AT ALL COSTS?
I can feel the fear and stress bubbling in my stomach. Or maybe that is the pregnancy.
Emergency! LinkedIn connected me to a hotornot hookup from sophomore year... slutty phase sphere has officially invaded grown up professional sphere. My illusions of interweb sexual anonymity have been exploded.
Imagine cans of beer raining. Like not hitting you and hurting you. Just gently falling into your hand whenever you're sad
after all you did bang a few mechanics. you must have got some second hand skills by now for building us a go kart.
There's no way you didn't at least start out with a dick. I obviously know there isn't one now, but there is no way that you were born a girl
It was an all night sausage fest and I was the lady of honor.
I feel like my cat and I are playing mind games. I need more friends.
I just woke up, dressed as Chris Brown, with a bunless hot dog (presumably from 7/11) in my pocket, wearing a pair of shoes I don't recognize as my own. Help.
Grandma said I got a good handjob. I think she meant manicure.
Randomize
